Massed Up 2
by DelVarO
Summary: Shepard is dead, everyone went their own way and it's Thursday again. Now I have two full years to get myself ready for her return. Get myself back into better shape, stockpile some weapons... simple enough, right? With the way things were going so far, I think I should have expected that nothing will ever be so simple.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm baaaaaaaaaaack! Guess who's back... back again... Del is back... tell a friend! Yeah! Now, I'm not going to lie, but I'm freaking excited! Weeeee! The sequel is here! I'm so excited! I almost forgot how awesome it is to write original content, and considering it's exactly what I'm planning to fill the sequel with. Yep. 2 years, filled with pretty much original content, and that makes me feel giddy. I love writing original stuff, and from what people told me, they like it to, since they loved the beginning of the story, which had tons of it.  
**

**Anyway... yes, this is the sequel! I'm not going to tell you what's going to happen... because that would be cheating. You'll have to read through the whole story like everyone else. But... I'll give you a quick taste right here. I personally adore this particular... writing technique. So without any more delays, you've waited long enough as it is, enjoy the story!**

* * *

_Я умираю, но не сдаюсь - Unknown_

* * *

I lean on the wall, well, more like crash against it and stop there for a moment to catch my breath. Breathing is painful. Walking is painful. _Existing_ is painful. I have no idea how I'm even standing at this point. With a groan I push myself off the wall and proceed to drag my sorry ass further down the corridor to my destination. Every second step makes me wince in pain. By the nine hells, I don't think I've been injured like this since the battle against Sovereign. Not sure if it's a good or bad thing. I'll go with bad, since pain is generally not good.

I finally step into the room. Looks like a control room, with all the buttons, levers and screens that are filled in this place. Large windows are all around the place, giving a good view of something that looks like a large generator. I'm kinda weirded out by the fact that it's all physical buttons. I'm so used to using holographic interfaces that I'm feeling a bit lost looking at all these things. Then again, this base _is_ old. Older than I am. Okay, enough thinking. I need to finish my work. I look around, trying to find something that would look like it would restore complete power to this place. My eyes eventually land on a big lever, which has 'power' written on it with faded letters. I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering why they would make it so obvious, and why of all things they would use a lever, and not a big red button or something, and limp my way over to it.

Instinctively I reach with my right hand but I stop myself in time, lowering my injured forearm, minding the knife strapped to it via duct tape. Ah, duct tape, even centuries into the future you are still the most versatile thing known to mankind. I'm pretty sure that nearly every single bone in my right hand has been shattered, so I strapped my knife to it so I'll have some use for it. Better a weapon than dead weight. Not to mention the fact that I can't be disarmed now. They'll have to break my arm now. Thinking of injuries... let's see... I wince slightly as I check my physical state. Four broken ribs, my shoulder hurts from being dislocated, my legs _really_ hurt, though the left one hurts even more from two gunshot wounds, many bruises and cuts all over my body and I haven't slept in nearly three days. I'm not counting the four hours of unconsciousness I've had, because the time before and after those hours was most definitely _not_ fun. The best part? My medigel supply ran out several hours ago. I know for a fact that the only thing that is keeping me in working condition is the three doses of almost-illegal battle-stims I'm running on, though I really hope the warnings of organ-failure were just a way to scare the users not to abuse the substance.

I finally reach the lever and I can't help but stare at it a little. This little thing just might change the face of the galaxy. This piece of plastic and metal can change everything. Possibly for the better. Quite possibly for the worse. The responsibility that might come with pulling this level down... is frightening, to say the least. But I'm going to pull it down. I want to, _need_ to know why all these people died. Why _she_ died for this. I can find out only by pulling this thing down. I'm too involved in this to back down now. I place my uninjured left hand on the lever...

…the sound of an unfolding handgun behind me causes me to freeze. I don't need to look to know who it is. After all, we're been tearing each other apart through the past week. "Remove your hand," came the flanging voice, only confirming my suspicion.

"No," I say flatly. "You'll only shoot me," I will not remove my hand. Not a chance. The lack of response only confirms my words. He will shoot me once I remove my hand. Slowly, I turn around to look at the turian, then at the weapon aimed at my face. "Your brother says Hi,"

Yeah, good idea! Antagonize the one aiming the weapon at you! His mandibles twitch slightly and his eyes narrow. Yeah, struck a nerve there, that's for sure. "You killed him," he says, not asks. He a bit too calm for my tastes, but whatever.

"Self-defense," I say with a half-hearted shrug. "And he was an asshole, you know that."

"He was still my brother," he turian replies. "Now, I will not repeat myself. Remove your hand and step away."

"You know I can't do that," I refuse to give him any kind of power over me. Once I let go, he can do whatever he wants, and I'm not going to let that happen. I know that I am essentially screwed in this situation. I'm exhausted and injured. He's in fine health and relatively rested. He has a gun pointed at me, I can't reach mine because my only usable hand is resting on the only thing keeping me alive, not to mention my pistol is holstered on my right hip.

"I can't let you go either. You're too involved in this now. You should've listened to her and backed off. Maybe then no one would've suffered."

I bark out a humorless laugh at that. "Except six innocent people who you still murdered, by the way. No, I will not remove my hand." If it comes down to a fight, I'm pretty sure that my injured leg and aching body would work properly. The adrenaline and endorphins will make sure of that, not to mention the stims.

He allows some frustration to enter his voice. "They were _not_ innocent! By now you _know_ what they did. You know what they worked on! Do you even have_ any idea_ what you're going to do? What will happen once you pull that lever? Only for some bit of money?!"

I mull over the question. "Mostly, yeah," I say with the same nonchalance. "And it's not about the money. Not anymore," they asked me, begged me to stop him, and I made a promise that I will. Too many people died, too many for me to just turn around and walk away.

This only seems to enrage him further. "Then you know that you _cannot do this!_ If you pull that lever down, _everything_ will end. You will doom the entire galaxy!"

I fight down the urge to laugh at that. If you only knew... no, if you only _believed_, you would've known that the galaxy has been doomed since... since eons ago. I doubt another galactic apocalypse will change much in the grand scheme of things. The Reapers will come regardless, unless the whole galaxy will spontaneously explode, which won't happen anytime soon. "You can't be sure of that," I counter.

"_You_ can't be sure of that too," the turian counters my counter. He's right. I'm not entirely sure either. Indeed, I might be responsible for the early end of everyone in the galaxy. Of course, I might be wrong about that too, like I've been wrong on many occasions before. "You will be signing everyone's death. You will kill billions."

I don't reply at first. I simply look at him evenly. I can't change his mind, that's for sure. There are no paragon or renegade points to help me out here. Whether I'll be dooming the galaxy or not, with him here, chances of getting out alive are slim. So... it simply doesn't matter. "Then so be it," I finally say, not bothering to roll my eyes or shrug to show him how much I'm sure he's wrong.

His eyes widen at those words, as if he's finally realizing that no, I'm not going to back off. "You're insane," he spits out with frustration and disbelief.

These words finally break me. I laugh. Genuine, loud laughter. Oh, how ironic that of all people, he's the one saying that, mirroring the words I spoke not a couple of days earlier. And hell, maybe he's right. Maybe I_ am_ insane. Who knows? I shake my head at the absurdity of finding humor in this situation. I look back at the turian. "Gotta ask. Have your brother ever told you the human definition of insanity?" I ask, receiving some sick pleasure from the fact that anger came back to his face. He's furious, and that makes me happy.

I have to wonder how things went so wrong. I mean, I just planned on sitting down these two years, quietly prepare and then rejoin Shepard once she comes back. Then again, nothing goes as you planned it, that much I learned personally. Still, I have to ask myself at which point things have gone _this wrong_.

The turian opens his mouth to snap at me, but I don't let him.

I pull the lever.

* * *

**One year, two months earlier**

* * *

The smoke burns down as I inhale it into my lungs, leaving a rather disgusting aftertaste in it's wake. Pretty fitting if you ask me. I'm pretty disgusted with myself as it is. I look out into the Presidium, where people are milling about, going about their business, as if the whole place wasn't under attack and in ruins barely two months ago. So quickly they went back to their regular lives, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen. Idiots. The whole lot of them. I take another drag.

It was Thursday.

I fucking hate Thursdays.

"Uh, sir?" I hear from behind me, a feminine voice filled with hesitation. I turn my head to the good side, where I'll be able to see the speaker. Once I do that, I can see that it's one of the nurses, Susan I think. Not really sure. Never bothered to learn her name, just that she's usually very shy around me. Garrus joked that she fancies me, but I ignored him back then. Then again, it might be true. She's an unassuming little thing, shorter than me by at least a head – I'm shocked to learn that it's possible to be any shorter than me – shoulder length light brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin. Well, usually pale. Right now it's more of a pink tint, which is obviously a blush, as if she's embarrassed to talk to me. "It's, uh, you're not allowed to smoke here," she says to me gently. Hm, Garrus might be right. I did catch some of the nurses giving me some curious looks of the interested kind. Probably because I'm one of the heroes of the Citadel or something. Despite how unusual it is for me to even receive these looks, I'm not interested at the moment. Got other things on my mind.

I look around and I don't see any sign telling me not to smoke. Probably because almost no one smokes here, for some unexplained reason. I look back at her, noting that she looks even more uncomfortable than before. "Dully noted," I finally say, taking another drag and going back to stare out of the window. I hear her still standing behind me, probably waiting for me to get rid of the smoke stick. I take another long drag, just to make a point. After another minute it seems that she finally gets the message and leaves with an indignant huff.

I have too much on my mind to care about something so dull and... meaningless.

My name is Alex and I'm, for a lack of a better word, an extra-dimensional traveler. Or more accurately, and extra-dimensional kidnapping victim. Almost a year ago, the asshat that goes by the name of The Chairman essentially kidnapped me one morning and dumped me into the Mass Effect universe, which is, for the record, simply a video game back home. I have no idea why he brought me here, and he simply told me to join Shepard and that I should not change anything.

Which brings me to my current line of thought. Why the fuck am I even doing here? I joined Shepard's crew, we kicked ass across the galaxy and we saved the Citadel from Sovereign. But... what was the point of me being there? It would've happened regardless, and in fact, I've made things even worse in some places. Kaidan is dead, and Ashley is crippled, the latter of which would've never happened had I not been there. Most importantly, Shepard is still dead, this time through my inaction.

So... why am I here? What is his plan? What is the goddamn point? Sadly, the view out of the window isn't giving me any answers.

I put out the cigarette on the windowsill and take out another one. I can't stay locked up in that room at the moment. Not to mention that I don't want the smell of smoke in it. Which is why I'm out here in one of the hospital corridors. And it is good training, I have to admit. My crutches are placed against the wall and I can stand on my own. Can't say the same about walking without them, but I'm getting there. Then again, I lost count of how many times I've stumbled to the floor, so I have no idea _when_ I'm going to get there.

"Well, well, look who've decided to finally grace me with his presence," a very, very familiar voice suddenly says, causing me to both cringe and perk up in recognition. Since it came from my right side, which is still, much to my annoyance, blind, I have to fully turn and face the speaker.

Ashley Williams is in front of me, looking more than a bit offended as she sits in her wheelchair. She's wearing a hospital gown and her hair is down, which is a surprise. I haven't seen her with her hair like this, other than the third game trailers back home, which was a year ago, so its a bit unusual for me. Hell, I'll go out of my way and admit that it makes her look quite hot. "Hey Ash," I say, silently cringing to myself. Why shouldn't I be uncomfortable around her? After all, I've been actively avoiding her for the past month.

"Hey yourself," she snaps at me, with good reason. "Everyone tells me we're in the same hospital, on the _same floor_ actually, and I don't hear a damn word from you for nearly two months!"

I almost wince at her every word. "In my defense, I've been unconscious for the better part of the first month," I put up a flimsy defense at best, but I really have no excuse. Ash knows it too, and her glare shatters whatever defense I could put up. I know exactly why I didn't even send her a message, not to mention actually visit her.

Because I feel guilty, that's why.

No use in denying it – not to say that I didn't try – because that's exactly the reason. Like me, Ashley suffered a spine injury. And she needs exactly the same surgery that I went through. I was wounded quite a time later than she did, but here I am, able to stand on my two feet, and here she is... in her wheelchair, unable to stand. I got moved up the waiting list, thus making her wait longer for the surgery. I'm the reason why she got the injury in the first place, suffered pretty much the same injury she did... and here I am, able to walk again, while she can't.

"Hey, Scarface, are you there?" the voice of Ashley snaps me out of my thoughts.

I frown a bit at the new nickname, but simply sigh. "Sorry," I have nothing else to say other than that. I've got no excuse. "I just had... stuff to occupy me. Sorry I never visited or anything..." Yeah, been to busy dwelling in self-misery and disgust with myself, if you can call it stuff to occupy myself with.

"Not good enough, Eye-patch," she says with a smirk and a shake of her head. Another nickname? Wow, I hope they don't stick, because if I get a nickname, I hope it will be original at the very least. Or cool. "You own me one. You're going to make it up for me, because you have no idea how boring it is here when you can barely move. And I had no idea you smoked..." she notes, face wrinkling in obvious disapproval.

I can't help but smile slightly at that. I definitely know how boring it can get. I take a pull of the almost forgotten cigarette. "I don't. I just take a few drags when I have too much on my mind. How are you?" I change the subject, gesturing at the wheelchair to let her know what I'm asking about.

"That?" she asks, tapping the wheelchair. "Well, for one, I can finally _sit_," she says with some excitement. Probably because it is something exciting for her. "It's true what they say, you know. That you take things for granted until they're gone. I couldn't sit for a month, and it was _torture!_" she exclaims with a grimace, as if remembering some very, very awful thing.

"So... when is the surgery?" I finally ask with an amused smile.

"In a couple of months," she replies.

"Is it... is it safe for you? I mean, is it safe to sit like this? It's a broken back after all," I ask with some concern. I have no idea what you do with spinal injuries, but I'm pretty sure one should not be sitting. My back and legs are killing me from standing around for too long, so I can't imagine how it is for her.

"Oh no, doctors said it's fine. Most of the damage is fixed, now I just need the implants to make my lower half work properly again," Ah, yes, the implants. Got them myself. Essentially super-high-tech implants that are used to reconnect the nerves and the spine itself to return it to working condition. It has a lot more to it than that, but I admit that when the doctors explained it to me, I missed almost half of it through all the medical and scientific jargon they were throwing at me at the time. "What about you? From what I hear you were halfway dead,"

"Eh, I was. But I got better," I say, smiling to myself. I always wanted to have a reason to say that, though it doesn't have the same effect, I guess. I show her my arms, which now lack my tattoos, and hair. Also very pale, I must add. Same thing's with my chest too. "Got some new skin, new implants and a new eye," I tap the eye-patch I'm wearing, which should be removed today. Can't wait to see how I... see. "Overall, lucky to be alive."

She lets out an impressed whistle. "Damn. Now that makes me wish I was there even more. I owed him a bullet to the head for what he did," she mutters, her hand reaching to her chest, where Saren shot her. "Still, good to know you got back up after that. Not many can do that."

My smile falters at that. Yeah, you can't, for example. At least, not at the moment. "Well, you'll be glad to hear that I did put a shot through his skull in your name," I add with a smirk, glad to see that it made her look a lot more happy, considering the subject.

"Thanks! Anyway," Ashley continues. "It's pretty boring here now, though I hope that you will drop by once in a while now that you can walk. Garrus visited me a couple of times, but with most of C-Sec not knowing what to do with themselves after the invasion, he's too busy and with everyone else going off to do their thing..."

Another subject that kept making me a bit... depressed. With Saren gone, everyone just... drifted apart. It's a bit surreal for me that after all the things we've done and been through, all of us just go on to do our own thing. Hell, even_ Riley_ disappeared! I decided to check out her well-being once I learned we were in the same hospital, but to my surprise I heard that she was released already. Thankfully, she was released after Shepard left, so I'm pretty sure she was not on the Normandy when it was attacked. Which happened two weeks ago. Speaking of the Normandy...

"You got the message," I say. It's not a question. More of a statement, really. I'm sure that she got one, being a member of the crew and all.

Ash joins me in staring out of the window. "Yeah..." she says quietly.

It's been almost two weeks.. Two freaking weeks. Thirteen days where no one said a word. Nothing on the news. Nothing on the extranet. No word from the Council. No word from the Alliance. I can immediately exclude the option that no one knows, because I'm pretty sure they do. Joker messaged me after they were already rescued by the Alliance, so there is absolutely no chance they don't know about it. Which means the Commander has been dead for longer than two weeks, depending on how fast Alliance ships got to the scene. Of course, that still doesn't answer my question: why the hell no one is saying anything?

"I'm going to see Anderson. Probably today. Maybe tomorrow," I say, deciding to share my plan. The only response I get from her is a raised eyebrow, which means I should elaborate. "I need to know why no one is saying a word. She's been dead for two weeks. I'd expect the media would've been all over it by now, but they're keeping it quiet. I'm going to ask for the reason," I explain with a small shrug.

I don't really know Anderson, well, more accurately Anderson doesn't know _me_, but it's pretty much the same thing as far as I'm concerned. I know that he cares about Shepard, but he's not inclined to answer any of my questions. I'm not Alliance, I don't belong to any legal group, really. The only thing in common we have is Shepard's mission, so... he can kick me out of his office if he wants, and I can't do a thing about it. If he doesn't want to tell me anything, he doesn't have to. Of course, I can already come up with some answers of my own, but I want to hear it from Anderson first.

Ashley snorts in a very unladylike manner. "That's pretty obvious, don't you think?" she remarks bitterly. "Politics," she spits out, showing her dislike to the practice.

Same conclusion I came to. The Alliance, or the Council, or both, are trying to milk Shepard's fame for all it's worth while they still can. Of course, then they're going to drag her name through the dirt simply because they're too afraid to see their perfect little world crumble, but that's not the time for that. "I guessed the same thing," I reply. "Still, I want to know just why Anderson is going along with this shit."

"Probably because he doesn't have a choice," Ash replies, disgust still evident in her tone. "They kicked him out of his own ship because of some backroom politic decisions, probably the same thing now."

That makes me grimace. Another reason why I hate politics. Sure, I can't complain about the decision, because Shepard got the Normandy out of it, but it's still a bit... harsh to take away his command like that. "Maybe. I'm still going to ask though. No one else is going answer, and I can't just wait until they finally decide to tell everyone what happened."

"I'd go with you, but..." she doesn't say anything, just gestures at the wheelchair. "Not to mention the doctors. They will probably sedate me if I try to escape again."

Again? I'm about to ask for details but I'm interrupted by someone clearing their throat. I turn around and see a man, a doctor to be precise, accompanied by the definitely apologetic looking nurse who bothered me a couple of minutes ago, Susan. "Sir, smoking is not allowed here. Please get rid of the cigarette and return to your room," he says, voice firm and unwavering. Well, it's not like I can run away from him or anything. With a roll of my eyes and a last pull from the cigarette I put it out on the windowsill, right on top of the last one and turn to Ashley.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to go. I'll drop by later, I guess," I say to her with a small smile.

"You owe me one, Scarface. I'll be waiting for that visit, and don't forget about it," she says as I grab my crutches and begin to walk away.

"Wouldn't think of it," I say, pausing to giving her a lazy salute.

Damn, walking with crutches is so annoying. Now, I just need to find Morrison so he'd remove this annoying eye-patch. Being unable to see one side of everything that's in front of you is quite aggravating. Not to mention that I actually want to see how my new prosthetic looks like.

Once I get that done... I'm going to have my little talk with Anderson.

* * *

**Aaaand... that's it! For now. I hope you liked the beginning, just... a little bit of what's to come. Gives you something to look for, I guess. I honestly have no idea how long this story will be, possibly longer than the last, maybe a lot longer, but that doesn't matter. I'm going to have too much fun with this to even care.  
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**Now... my main plans... so to say, goals I wish to achieve with this installment. The last story got, for lack of a better word, a shitload of reviews, hits and follows. Much more than I initially expected. With this installment, I hope to reach 1000 reviews, and to finally get this story a page on TV Tropes. Yeah, that's my personal goals for this story. Last story had over 9000 hits, this one has 1000 reviews and a page on TV tropes. So yeah, hopefully you'll help me get to these goals! Oh, and if anyone could make a story cover, I would be eternally grateful!  
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**So yeah, for all of you who are reading this... to all those who came here from the last story, welcome back! To all the new ones (though I have no idea what you're doing here without reading the previous story) welcome aboard! So... let's get this show on the road! Next chapter should be ready in... who knows when! I'll get it done sooner or later! So thanks for reading, feel free to tell me your thoughts! Looking forward to see what you have to say!  
**

**Until next time, Delvaro out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! I am back again! First of all... _holy shiiiiiit!_ It feels like this story imploded out of sheer awesome and the debris are made from rainbow and candies! Over a 1000 hits. 27 reviews. Over a 100 favs and alerts. 4 C2's... just for ONE chapter! And on that note... the amount of hits for this months is WAY OVER 9000! Damn. I'm freaking popular! Ahhhhh, you make me feel awesome. I'm practically speechless... okay, I'm not, but you know what I mean! Well... how can I deny you a new chapter with this kind of feedback?! Here you go! Enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

I hum in thought and slight awe as I stare into the small mirror. My new eye is, to say the least, incredibly awesome. If it wasn't for the obvious hints, I'd say it's a normal eye. Though it is a shade of blue lighter than the original one. Looks a bit like the Illusive Man's, but that just makes it even more awesome. I have to wonder if it glows in the dark too.

Still, this will take some times getting used to. The prosthetic is... simply better than my other eye. The vision is clearer and much... much more focused. Which is pretty depressing. My old vision sucked, if this is the case. It's like watching an old 80's television, and then quickly switching to watching in high definition.

"Huh, does it do anything?" I ask Morrison as I scrunch my left eye shut and look around with the new eye, trying to do _something_. Can I zoom in and out? Can I change vision spectrum? I have to say that I'm quite excited.

"Uh, do?" he asks, looking at me as if I have another concussion. "It's an _eye_. It lets you see."

And with that all my hopes are crushed. "So... it doesn't do anything?" I ask with with a scowl.

Morrison rolls his eyes at that. "Obviously. What did you expect it to do? Shoot laser beams and x-ray vision?"

I don't answer, which prompts him to break out laughing. Well, laser beams is a bit too much to hope for, but x-ray vision does sound like something I'd want. "So it's just a prosthetic?"

"Pffft. Of course it is!" he confirms with a grin. "What, did you think we're going to give you military-grade equipment here? Our task was to ensure you can see again, and we did exactly that. Nothing more."

That gives me a pause. "So... you're saying there are prosthetics out there that can do some stuff," I summarize. The nod he gives me makes me a little more elated.

"Yeah, it's still a piece of machinery, so to speak, and machines do what you program them to do. Yours is programmed to just let you see stuff. There_ are_ more interesting types out there, but you'll have to get it on your own. We don't have access to them," he supplies.

Hmm, that sounds... interesting. I might be a bit hasty, but I already lost an eye so... it's not like I have to get rid of one to get a prosthetic that can do something. Unless I'm going to get rid of my last original eye, which I'm not going to do. Losing one eye sucked more than enough, I have to admit. From what I understand, they replaced some – and added – stuff on my optic nerve to make my prosthetic... interchangeable. The prosthetic is essentially a machine – a very, very complex one, but a machine nonetheless – and machines break. With all the implants I have there, I can simply replace the eye with another one, which actually gives me a viable reason to get a military grade one. I involuntarily shudder at the thought of simply plucking out my eye and placing in a new one. That's just disturbing. Hm, I wonder if I can change the color of the glow? Oooh, maybe red, like renegade Shepard? That's just badass. Or maybe something original, like purple? Or yellow? I never saw purple prosthetic eyes...

"So how come I don't see more people with prosthetics like that?" I ask out of curiosity. I sound question, I have to admit. If there was an available option to make some part of you better... many people would go for it.

"Because it's bloody expensive!" he replies with a roll of his eyes. "Not to mention _illegal._ The only way you can actually get an authorization for a replacement part is to lose the original part – legs, arms, eyes – in an accident, not to mention _prove_ that it was an accident and not intentional, or combat if you're a soldier. You can't just cut off your own arm and get yourself a cool new one instead. Not that you can actually afford it. Like I said, bloody expensive. Though from what I heard, you can get one in the Terminus Systems. They don't ask for a reason, and it's a lot cheaper. Then again, I don't really want to know where they get the prosthetics in the first place... after all, the prosthetics you can get there are not exactly _new_..."

Oh, when he explains it like that... yeah, that does explain it. Yeah... I don't think I'm going to upgrade my eye any time soon. I'm pretty broke at the moment. Well, not entirely, but I doubt it's enough for anything high quality. Which rules out the Terminus too... I really don't want to use second-hand – hah! _Second_ _hand_ – equipment.

"Okay, thanks for the info," I finally say, deciding to leave the idea of a super bionic eye for later. "I'm free to go out of the hospital for a while, yes?" I ask. I guess I should. It wouldn't do to be stopped before I go out or something.

"Oh, please do get out more, you little freeloader," he says with a snort. "I get _so many_ complaints about you leaving all these cigarette butts all over the place, so I'm officially giving you permission to do it _elsewhere,_" he jerks his thumb at the door. "though do come back. You're still not healthy enough to be released, though short walks is exactly what you need."

I take offense at being called a freeloader but I keep my mouth shut. He basically allowed me to leave and do my business, so I'm not going to complain. Even if he's a little bit right. I don't pay a credit for my stay here, courtesy of the Council, and I get free meals and a free bed. Good enough for me, even though the food lacks in the taste department. Why does supposedly 'healthy' food has to taste like cardboard mixed with stale water? Can't wait until I can get their cafeteria food, which is tons better, according to other people in this place.

"Thanks a lot, Doc!" I say and hop off the bed. Well, more like grab my crutches and make a careful attempt to stand without stumbling.

"Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't," Morrison says without looking, waving me away.

I ignore him. I've gotten used to his antics in the months he had to drive me insane. At least it was better than being bored, so I can at least be thankful to him for that. Other than the occasional visit from one of my friends, I had nothing to do. Well, nothing fun at least.

Thankfully, the hospital, a Huerta-something – never bothered to learn the name – is located in the Presidium, so I don't actually have to walk that far. At first I had to wonder what the hell Morrison was even doing there, because I clearly recall that he worked in one of the hospitals down at the wards. Then I found out that the hospital he worked at had some Sovereign pieces fall on it. The damage was not that great and thankfully no one was seriously injured, but it did render most of the facilities unusable. Which is why the staff was moved to all the other hospitals to help them out with all the casualties of the invasion. They remained there, and will remain there until the repairs were finished, which should take another couple of months. Or more. I have no idea how quick construction works in this place, but they already cleared away all the rubble from the building. Other buildings were not so lucky, but the hospital had bigger priority.

The walk through the Presidium is rather calm. I decide to ignore the stares, though a couple of young asari did point at me and whispered to themselves as I passed them by. How do I know they're young? Pretty much because older asari are usually more... composed. And they never point. Everyone else simply stares for a bit before continuing with their business.

It's pretty weird to be actually recognized. I was never in the spotlight and usually the recognition of my friends was more than enough for me. To be recognized by complete strangers, some even giving me awed looks... it's simply unnatural. It actually makes me slightly uncomfortable, which I never really expected. Perhaps because I feel that I don't really deserve the praise? Shepard and the rest of the team did most of the job, while I barely pulled my weight. My kill-count is not even worth mentioning.

Bah, screw these thoughts. I'll dwell on them later. I'm nearly at the embassies anyway.

The embassies are pretty much the same. Despite the Presidium being the first place overrun by the geth, it didn't really suffer any damage, unlike the wards. Mostly because Sovereign's remains miraculously missed most of the Presidium, the most prominent piece landing in the lake, rendering the damage to the Presidium superficial at best.

I also see a lot more humans around. Happy humans. Pride is practically rolling off of them in waves. I guess finally getting a Council seat made more than most people happy and proud of their race. I'm not really among them. I'm indifferent at best. My race having a Council seat doesn't really affect me that much, so I don't really care. Sure, some of the other races might treat me with more respect, but since most of my interactions involve people I know, that's pretty irrelevant too.

As I approach the entrance I take note than instead of the usual asari receptionists I see here, the one at the entrance is a young human woman. She's pretty attractive, black wavy hair, curvy body and completely and utterly bored looking. Well, I guess the Council seat is helpful to others, at least. This job pays well, but it's boring as hell, which is why I immediately decided against the occupation when I was looking for a job. I'm not really a people person too, so having snobby people treating me like crap would've made this job an utter torture.

"Hello, sir," she greets me in a bored manner as I approach. Her eyes freeze of the crutches for a second before they rise to my face and widen slightly in what is obviously recognition. "How may I help you?" she asks with a bright smile, her tone now much more enthusiastic and friendly.

… huh.

Well... that's just weird. I'm really not used to this. "Uh... I'm here to see Cap – Councilor Anderson, if he's not too busy, of course," I add quickly. I doubt I can demand a meeting with him, even if I'm slightly famous at the moment. He actually might be a very busy person now, but I'm not entirely sure. Honestly, I've never seen the Council actually _do_ anything in the games, other than being unhelpful twats via hologram communications. For all I know, they might sit on their asses all day, bothering assistants to fetch them coffee all day long.

"Councilor Anderson is a busy man but..." here she gives me a sly wink. "I think I can do something for one of the heroes of the Citadel," she adds conspiratorially. She then looks into her computer screen, clicking a few buttons here and there, all the time glancing at me with a small smile plastered on her face.

I simply stare at her dumbly.

She continues to look at whatever she is looking for almost a minute – she still glances at me every few seconds, hell, she even licked her lips once! – until she finally smirks triumphantly. "There you go! Councilor Anderson has an important meeting right now but... if you don't waste your time, you can speak to him for a short while, since his next meeting has been unexpectedly delayed by ten minutes," she finishes with a wicked smirk. Can she even do that? Wow, I hope she doesn't lose her job because of me, 'cause I'm sure as hell she's _not _allowed to do this.

"Oh, wow," I say sheepishly. I didn't expect anything like this. "Thanks!"

To my surprise she leans over her table and grabs my hand, which is a bit uncomfortable for me, considering I'm on my crutches. For a moment I'm about to pull it back but I stop myself in time. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her lipstick and proceeds to quickly scribble with it something on my hand.

Again, I simply stare at her dumbly.

"You're welcome," she finally replies, letting go of my hand and giving me a charming smile. "I hope you get better soon," she adds, giving me another suggestive wink. I'm vaguely aware that a shiver travels down my spine.

I nod at her dumbly and walk into the embassies, stumbling a little – which causes her to _giggle_ – because I'm a bit unsure of my footing. I don't look back until I finally disappear into the corridors and hallways of the embassy building. Only then I look at my hand. Scribbled there is a contact address – an omni-tool's to be precise – and a short line: 'Call me! Emma'

By the Nine Hells and the 666 layers of the abyss. I... I am speechless.

It must be the scars. Chicks love the scars.

…

I'm keeping the address.

Ah, I really need to get a new omni-tool. My old one was fried along with my arms, much to my annoyance. I guess I'll have to walk around with her message on display. Hah! Let these random males eat their hearts out!

I vaguely remember the way to the office from the first game, not that I actually need to remember. There are quite helpful pointers on the wall, so I just have to follow them.

Okay... so how exactly do I even start this conversation? While I put some thought into the whole thing, I didn't quite think about what I'm actually going to say. Ugh, I don't even know Anderson that much and the games never really expanded on his character that much, though the books certainly did it. The problem? I haven't read the books. So I'm essentially flying blind here. I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't kick me out, that just doesn't seem like a very Anderson thing to do. Still, I assume I have some time until he finishes his meeting to come up with some way to get my answers.

Unfortunately, all my thoughts cease to exist when I see the woman standing in front of the office door. I simply stop in my tracks. Freeze there in place. Same hair, same body, same face. I'm seeing a ghost. This is impossible. Impossible! "Shepard?" I croak out, suddenly aware how dry my throat is.

The woman turns and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, so similar to Kate's, obviously confused, and I feel like my heart is crushed. It's not Shepard. At least, it's not Kate. "Pardon?" she asks, looking at me curiously. Her voice is different too.

I limp my way closer and see that yes, it's not Kate. But the resemblance is uncanny. Same red hair, cut to the same length, same eyes, though now that I'm closer I see that the nose and cheekbones are different and she is undoubtedly older than Kate. There is no doubt though. Despite never seen her, I know who this woman is: Hannah Shepard. No one else could look so much like Kate.

I suddenly realize that she's waiting for a reply. And that I'm feeling like an idiot. "Oh... I'm... I'm sorry, I thought you were Kate," I say sheepishly, not exactly sure what I can say in this situation. "It's just... you look so much like her..." I finish lamely, hoping that this would explain everything.

Thankfully, it does. She smiles knowingly. "Don't worry I get that a lot," she says, essentially brushing my mistake away. "You're Alex," she then adds.

I nod at that, surprised that she knows. "Ah, yeah," She probably knows me from the news, that's it. Okay... now be smooth! "It's, eh, an honor to meet Kate's mother. She told me a lot about her family," I say, thinking that this is a nice way to show respect. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel that there's something is wrong. Very wrong.

"I hope only good thing?" she asks with a little smile.

"Yeah, as much as I know at least," I say and immediately lose my smile. Kate is dead. It's... not really something I actually wish to talk with someone about, especially her mother. It's just... uncomfortable. "I.. uh, I'm sorry for your loss, if you... if you ever need anything..." I begin, planning on telling her that I'm always willing to help, but the widening of her eyes and the look of utter confusion mixed with fear that my words bring to her make me freeze again.

"I'm sorry, but... w-what are you talking about?" she asks, now looking pale as snow, as if she's already guessing what I'm talking about. The little glimmer of hope in her eyes, asking me to tell her that it's just a mistake.

I'm staring at her. Wide-eyes and out of breathe. She doesn't know. She doesn't know her daughter is dead. _She doesn't know. _

Something inside me simply... snaps. Breaks into pieces. Whatever plan I had beforehand is completely forgotten. The only thing that I register is that I'm seeing red. The next thing I know is that I'm already inside Anderson's office, words flying out of my mouth before I can even choose them.

"What in the fucking hells is wrong with you?!" I roar at the stunned looking Anderson, who clearly did not expect my intrusion. In front of him stand the three holograms of the other Councilors, looking just as shocked as Anderson.

The Council is here. Even better. I've got a few choice words just for them...

"What is the meaning of this?" the Turian Councilor, Sparatus, growls out angrily, glaring at Anderson.

Anderson immediately composes himself and raises a calm eyebrow. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. **********?" he asks calmly.

"The problem?" I breathe out in sheer disbelief. "The problem is that it's been two weeks. Two, _goddamn weeks_ since Kate died, and you _didn't even tell her mother?!_" I scream the last part, all the built up rage, frustration and hatred I have being poured into my words. I want to throttle these bastards.

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice asks angrily and I see Udina, of all people, walk out from a side office, probably brought here by following my voice. He looks at me and practically sneers. "What are _you_ doing here," he asks, saying you with so much contempt.

Oh no. I am not going to tolerate this bitter asshole. "You," I point a finger at him, "shut the fuck up before I punch you in the mouth so hard you'll be shitting out what remains of your jaw," I promise him with equal contempt.

Udina clams his mouth shut and looks at Anderson with wide, surprised eyes, probably asking why am I still here after saying that.

I'm about to continue my tirade but Tevos interrupts me, with that annoying diplomatic approach of hers. "You must understand," she pleads soothingly, obviously trying to calm me down. "We cannot si-"

"I don't fucking care!" I yell out, stopping her from spouting the bullshit she has as an excuse. "You should be fucking ashamed of yourself! Of all people, her _mother_ deserves to know about this more than anyone else! But you didn't say a thing! You're not doing _anything_! You're not even preparing for the Reapers! _You're all borderline useless!_ You're a disgrace to every ruling body I've ever heard of," I finish bitterly, having lost the initial wind I had in my sails. All my anger is spent for now. I don't have anything left to scream. I look at the door, where Hannah Shepard is standing, pale and shocked beyond words. "Now please, tell her mother why it took you two weeks to notify her that he daughter is dead," I spit out with disgust and with that, I turn around to leave.

"How dare you to -" Sparatus apparently shook off his surprise and decides to go on the defensive. But I'm not letting him.

"Fuck off," I cut him off, giving him the middle finger as I slowly but surely limp out of the office. "Sorry that you had to hear about it like this," I mutter to Hannah as I pass her by.

I changed my mind. I don't want to know the reason why they said nothing. I'm too disgusted with them as it is. I just... don't want to know. Ignorance is bliss. I don't want their lacking excuses. After all this, I just feel... tired. Like I spent everything I had on yelling at these bastards. I hope Anderson doesn't get the wrong impression. I was yelling mostly at the three schmucks, and Anderson just only joined, and from the games I saw that he at least tried to support Shepard, so he's not that bad. Still, regarding this occasion, he should've tried harder.

I'm not angry anymore. Now I just feel frustrated. But mostly bitter. Bitter with how everything turned out, bitter with... _everything_. Now I just want to get back to my room in the hospital, and wallow in self-misery. I almost hope the Council will press charges. I really want to punch someone at this moment.

Now the only thing I have left to do is wait and hope the Council doesn't delay Kate's funeral by several months...

* * *

**Yeaaaaah... a bit angsty, but I think it's fine. A bit too short for my tastes, but the longer things will get done later. Things should get a lot better soon enough, so just stick around! So, next chapter should deal with the funeral and after that... the fun begins! Oh yeah, prepare for the fun! Fun. Fun! FUN! Ooh yeah. I've enacted the Madness Mantra, so you know I'm serious! Anyway, stick around I'll get to that.  
**

**Now... next chapter should be ready... uh, sometime soon. I have no idea when. I have the next two weeks filled with the lamest and shittiest shifts possible (I'm also going to get drunk with my coworker and Boss-lady on tuesday, so that's a day gone to a hangover) so... I'll attempt to put in at least an hour of writing whenever I can. Either way, I'll get it done when I get it done, and after that... fun. Ugh, i really should lay off Dwarf Fortress a bit... Fun.**

**FUN. FUN. FUN! Until next time, Delvaro out!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello people! I'm sorry for the long delay, but I've had so many stuff going on that I lost count. We finished the cosmetic repairs to the apartment, my job utterly sucks at the moment with the unfairness I'm encountering daily and most of all, I've been applying to uni! I've handed my documents already, so now I just have to wait and see if they accept me! University of the Tourism Industry. Yay. I'll either be an epically awesome tour guide or a hotel manager or something. Pretty interesting if you ask me. Anyway, I'm practically speechless with all the support I've been recieving from you. The fact that so many of you came to say that you're glad to see another chapter simply makes my day better. One of my goals is to be a writer, so seeing all this feedback from you makes me feel that I'm on the right track! Thank you very much! **

**Now, on another note, so... anyone has any free time to make a cover for this story? For real, my drawing skills are crap, and I doubt I could draw better than an armless man. In fact, there are some armless men out there that draw better than me. So... anyone willing to make something? :P  
**

**Now, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, which is awesome for me. And lovely for you. I don't know, I like longer chapters. Either way, the delay was long enough, so enjoy the story! :D**

* * *

Odd, but I think that after living for 23 years I'd figure out one important fact: I'm an idiot.

In hindsight, I think I should've figured out that yelling at the Council was a bad idea. After getting back to the hospital I think I already knew that I did something stupid, but I didn't really care. At least for two days. Then Morrison came in, more than a bit annoyed and told me that I was basically being kicked out of the hospital. According to his superiors, if I'm healthy enough to go for a stroll in the embassies and yell at people, I'm healthy enough to stop freeloading the money the Council generously donated for my care. Morrison wasn't pleased with the decision, but the Elcor and Volus diplomats were apparently gossiping like madmen, and there's no one in the embassies who didn't know about what I said.

Honestly? I'm surprised they went this lightly on me. I expected a lawsuit, or worse, a quiet encounter with a Spectre in some dark hallway.

Short version, Morrison dumped me a load of exercises I should keep doing and proceeded to proverbially kick me out with only the clothes on my back and the sole item they managed to salvage after the battle: my helmet. Quite an awful thing, that helmet. At least it has a high decoration value.

Not an hour later, Jorrun open the door for me, cheaply dressed and carrying a broken helmet with dried blood on it, asking if he could let me in. The only thing missing was rain and a pitiful expression on my face, along with some incredibly sappy words.

"Huh, you don't look half bad in that. I'd even say you look good," I hear Lucy say from behind me as I check out my suit. I already know that, but I honestly don't really like wearing them. I asked Joe to rent me a suit, specifically an old-styled one. These futuristic pieces of crap they call suits nowadays are plain ugly. Unfortunately I'm fighting a losing battle against the tie. I never got the hang of it. I hear the woman sigh in annoyance. "Just let me do this..." she says and she steps in front of me, grabbing the tie with enough force to yank me forward. Considering I'm hopeless in this situation, I let her.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, _mom_," I say, deciding to save at least some face via sarcasm and being a dick about it.

Living with Jorrun and Lucy is... unusual, to say the least. I'm too used to either living with my family or by myself, so this is a new experience for me. Their apartment is a relatively small and cozy place, a large living room – which I occupy until I get back on my feet – a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. Pretty classic by all definitions. It's pretty fun to live with them. I didn't realize how much I missed the banter with them until I started living with them... and I get free food and the couch is actually comfortable! Though I do feel like the third wheel sometimes. They're a married couple and I can't help but feel that I'm needlessly burdening them. It's not like I don't have money. I still have what I earned from Shepard...

"How are you holding up?" she suddenly asks me, looking at with concern.

How am I feeling? I'm angry, sad and disappointed. "I'll get better, eventually," I reply with a small, slightly bitter smile, checking the mirror to see Lucy's work. Yep, the tie is perfect now. I have to wonder why men are even wearing them when women are the only people who can tie them properly. How would a single man wear it then?

"I hope so. I'd like to see you stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking," I defend myself. I just don't have anything to say. Or any desire to say anything. "And where the hell is Joe?" I ask, trying to change the subject. My issues with Kate is not something I want to talk about.

"Working, unlike you," she answers, with the regular remark about my apparent laziness. I chased a madman around the galaxy and then helped save said galaxy and this is the 'thank you' I receive: being called a lazy freeloader. How lovely. "He still has to sort out the new business."

Another new revelation that came as a shock. I was actually wondering what Jorrun was doing with Don Capriotti back then, and I got my answers. After meeting the Citadel crime lords one by one, the Den and the closest surrounding area was declared as neutral grounds. Anyone trying to do trouble there now will have to deal with the entirety of the Citadel's underworld. After Fist died, Jorrun – essentially now the leader of the organization with everyone of higher rank now gone – simply couldn't control all the territory with the lack of resources, manpower and funding. It all actually started back in the joint mission between the crime lords against the Blue Suns, but he finally cemented the deal a week ago. He hands over 80% of the territory to everyone else and in return he gets to keep the Den and _everyone's_ protection. Attacking the Den now is pretty much suicide.

All in all, that was a good deal. Eventually, the other organizations would've found out that Jorrun simply can't defend almost an entire ward with just fifteen able men – not including our team – and they would've eventually decided to take over the defenseless territory. The way I see it Joe gave them what they wanted without bloodshed and he got to keep a steady source of income. As of a week ago, Jorrun is no longer a lieautenant of Fist. He is now Jorrun, owner of Chora's Den. Now he was busy with trying to turn the club into a successful business, which is pretty hard after Shepard essentially tore the place apart. People try not to frequent places where firefights happen. Not to mention the Den has an old and a very hard to get rid of reputation to it. Joe has his work cut out for him.

"Now, aren't you going to be late?" she asks, looking at her old fashioned wristwatch, a wedding gift if I recall correctly. Lucy is like that, loving old thing.

I look at my own hand, where my latest omni-tool app is located. A small orange circle with a time display. Essentially a holographic wristwatch. I deactivate the clock and nod. "Not yet, but I might be if I stay any longer," I say and with that start leaving. Lucy doesn't say anything. What can she say anyway, have fun?

As far as I know, people don't have fun at funerals.

* * *

I've never been to funerals, so I have no idea how to go about it. I've seen enough in movies, but it's not the same. No one I even knew died before, with the exception of my grandfather, but he was in another country at the time and I couldn't attend his funeral, not to mention that I was a lot younger back then. Simply said, I have no idea what to do with myself in this situation.

The Citadel doesn't really have a cemetery. When people die, they are usually either sent back to their home planet, or wherever the remaining family or close friends choose. However, there was a large memorial on the Presidium for notable figures who did something important for the Citadel. The names of past Councilors, Spectres, great politicians and other notable figures. Today, Shepard's name is added to the list.

I can at least be happy about one thing. I don't know whether it was because of me or not – I honestly hope it is, because it proves the Council at least somewhat salvageable – but a day after I was kicked out of the hospital they finally announced her death and the day of the ceremony. From what I know, the funeral will be held on Earth, though there won't be a body to bury.

Much to my dismay, the sky car parked a little bit away from my destination, or more accurately, right in front of the massive crowd gathering in front of the gates. It's a closed event, so the media and civilians are just amassing outside in the hope they could get a story out of those who _were_ invited.

As soon as I get out of the car, like a hungry pack of wolves, they pounce on me and shove microphones into my face, cameras start hovering around me and a cacophony of questions deafens me from every direction. It's a nightmare. I'm still relying on my crutches, so I can't just push my way past them. In fact, I'm the one being pushed away from the gate as the crowd blocks my way, literally screaming questions at me.

"What is your relation to Commander Shepard?" one asks.

"Can you comment of the death of Commander Shepard?" the one next to him yells.

"Are you involved in the scandal that happened at the human embassies a week ago?" a different one interrupts.

"Are _you_ the one who shouted at the Council?" this question comes from behind me.

"What is your opinion on the Citadel Council?" the one in front of me asks. Jesus Christ, it's like they take cues from one another...

And it keeps on and on. I don't say a word. I just want to get inside. There's some scuffle inside the crowd and some of them get shoved around. One of the reporters to my right gets pushed right into me. I lose my balance and start falling, but instead I'm stopped by another reporter who happened to stand next to me.

"Move out of the way!" a very familiar voice growls. Balance now restored I look over at where the whole commotion started to see a towering figure approaching me. Same red armor, same red eyes, and same badass space dinosaur appearance. Urdnot Wrex is literally walking through the crowd in my direction. "Move your ass," he grunts as one reporter gets the wise idea to ask him a question, and to do that he thinks that standing in front of the krogan is a good idea. With those words Wrex just keeps walking, essentially bumping into the poor human and sending him to the floor. Wrex locks gazes with me and just jerks his head in the direction of the gates. I get the hint and follow him.

What follows next can be described as the exact opposite of someone running into a brick wall. In this case, it's the brick wall walking through you. Reporters are shoved aside, dropped, one has the misfortune to get shoved and another one just barely avoided being stepped on by the krogan. Most of them start yelling profanities at us but Wrex just shrugs it off. Hey, he told them to move aside, didn't he? Their fault for not listening. Within seconds we pass through the gates and they lock behind us, effectively cutting off the enraged words directed at us.

I let out a sigh once we're in. "Thanks," I mutter, feeling a bit embarrassed that Wrex saw that. We tore through hordes of geth, rachni and plant zombies together. And here I was being stopped by unarmed measly reporters.

"They would've torn you apart," he grunts in response. "Like a pack of starved varren."

I crack a smile at that, finding it amusing that we basically had the same analogy of them. Wolves and varren don't have many differences in how they operate. "It's good to see you again," I say, giving him a halfhearted smile.

Wrex looks at me out of the corner of his eye for a couple of seconds before he turns it back to the path we're following. "You look like shit," he comments.

I shrug at that. "I've been better," I admit. Out of all of us, I think that Wrex takes Shepard's death the best. He'd think it's a shame, but it won't make him lose any sleep over it. He's pretty much desensitized to death after living and fighting for such a long time. Many krogan are like that, old ones like Wrex even more so.

No one says anything after that. We don't really need to. We said our greetings for now. Wrex doesn't really like to talk that much, and I honestly have nothing say. It's a shaky balance at best, but I'm not in the mood for smalltalk anyway. I decide to look at the place we're in instead.

The best way to describe this place would be... a garden. A beautiful, serene garden. There was none of the urgency I've come to associate with the Presidium, where people always hurried to get to their meetings and what not. This place had a certain sense of... calm to it. I also think it's the first place I've seen here that actually has flowers. Trees all over the place, flower gardens with only the small paths there to separate them. Tombstone like monuments litter the area, names in languages that I can't even hope to understand carved into the stone. Further into the garden I see a relatively large gathering of people, who I can only assume are the ones invited to the ceremony. What catches my attention however is the turian, asari and quarian standing by one of the trees, apparently waiting for someone. I immediately recognize them.

"You're finally here," Garrus greets us with a smile, though it lacks the usual enthusiasm that I came to recognize from Garrus. He looks at Wrex then. "Nice to see you again, Wrex," he offers.

Wrex grunts. "Don't push it," he shoots back, though with good nature. It's pretty obvious that Garrus won't be getting a warmer greeting than what he got already. "I take it back. You all look like shit,"

And he's right. Liara looks like she's been crying for weeks, and I remember that she actually was on the Normandy when it happened. Tali is... well, I can't really see her face, but he body language shows just how defeated she looks. She just looks... ragged and tired. Out of all of us, Wrex excluded, Garrus looks the best. He doesn't look happy, at all, but at least he doesn't look as everyone else, tired and beaten.

"Where's everyone else?" I find myself asking when I don't see Ashley and Joker.

"They're coming with the Alliance delegation," Tali answers for me, he voice cracking a bit. Ah, yes. Since we worked with Shepard, they've allowed us to come to this whole thing, but on our own. They essentially told us that the only reason we're allowed here is because we were Shepard's squadmates.

I can't deny that I'm happy to see everyone together again, but I can only wish that it would've happened in better circumstances. I'm sure that everyone is at least somewhat happy to see eachother again, but the reason we're here kinda overshadows it.

"Let's get this over with," Wrex says and begins walking to the gathering. "Figures that this will be the way she'll go out. They couldn't take her on the ground, so they struck when she can't defend herself," he remarks bitterly. "Cowards," he spits out in disgust.

I can't help but agree with him. It also shows that Wrex held her in high regards.

I can easily say that I don't recognize anyone in the large crowd. I'm willing to bet Kate won't recognize most of the too. The Council is here, so is Hacket and Anderson. I spot Hannah Shepard in the crowd, looking close to tears. I immediately notice Ashley with her wheelchair and she returns the quick nod I send her way. Joker is outright ignoring the world. He looks so utterly... broken. If there's anyone who blames himself more than me, it's Joker. She saved him and paid the ultimate price for that. He just sits there and stares at the small monument.

The monument itself looks like an obelisk-like tombstone. Her rank and name is carved out in the stone, and if front of it a picture is placed. Shepard looks younger in this picture, perhaps my age, and happier too. It was probably taken before her service jaded her into what she is today... what she was. She's smiling brightly at the camera, puffing out her chest where the N7 insignia is proudly presented. I'm willing to bet it was taken after she completed her training, or was accepted into their ranks. I cannot be sure.

The ceremony itself is... well, it leaves a lot to be desired. The Council drones on and on and on about how much Shepard sacrificed for her duty. Indeed, if I recall correctly, she sacrificed six alliance ship to save your sorry asses. Their speech is... superficial, practiced. They don't really means what they say. They were respectful, but they did add a few snipes about her 'independent judgment' as they called it when she ignored their opinion and did something anyway. The only redeeming part is Anderson, who actually means what he says when he speaks about Shepard and calls her a great hero that the galaxy sadly lost. Hackett did a good job too. While I'm pretty sure they didn't know each other that well, Hackett's speech told everyone about how much he respected her and her actions. It was tons better than the crap the Council kept spewing at us.

It dawned on me during the speeches. The... finality of it all. I know she'll come back but... it doesn't change the fact that she's dead. She's gone. I knew it was going to happen, I was fully prepared for it... but right now I know that I wasn't. How do you prepare to allowing someone you care about to die when you have the full capacity to stop it? Out of all the things my presence here caused, this is doubtlessly the most disgusting.

The worst part? I can't even bring myself to cry. I simply can't. Even as Hannah Shepard starts her speech, voice cracking and tears silently pouring out of her eyes, telling how much she'll miss her daughter. I think my heart rips itself apart when her eyes catch mine and she offers me a weak smile, probably thanking me for how much I cared about her not knowing before.

There are a few remarks about the Council's judgment in her speech, which gives me at least some satisfaction as I watch them squirm. The turian councilor is staring at me with an unreadable expression while Hannah speaks, and I defiantly stare right back at him for the most part. You can kick me out of the hospital, but you can't make me stop being right and angry at you.

Liara is silently crying. I know Tali is crying too, even though I can't see anything. Her head is bowed, but her shoulders bob up and down once in a while, and I'm pretty sure I heard a muffled sob coming from her. Garrus and Wrex are the most collected of us, barring me. I'm just disgusted with myself. On the other side I see Ashley shedding a few tears too, but she's not breaking down. Joker is... just staring. Something inside me clenches in pain when I realize that it's my fault he's like that now. Had I warned her, he wouldn't be going through this.

Then, after several speeches from people I don't care to know, Udina comes on stage. Why this even happens, I have no idea. Udina goes up to the small stage and opens his mouth. It's pretty obvious that he doesn't give a damn and that he's here just to score some political points with the upper ranks of the Alliance and others, who are here as well. That's more than enough for me to take. There's only so much insult to Shepard's name that I can witness.

"I've had enough of this," I mutter to Wrex, who turns to look at me curiously as I stand up. "I doubt the Council will appreciate attempted murder," I explain and Wrex snorts loudly at that, gathering even more looks, mostly to me. I slowly get up and place my crutches and start to carefully walk away. By now, everyone is looking at me, in confusion, some with surprise. I stop for a moment to point a crutch at Udina. "I'm not going to listen to this self-centered asshole," with that said, I turn around again and walk away, ignoring the murmurs my actions started.

Did I need to make a scene? No. Did I want to make a scene? ...maybe. I honestly wanted to punch the prick, but I'll settle for a small blow to his political reputation.

I come to a stop in front of one of the trees and I lean on it. I feel bitter, disgusted and angry. Most of all bitter. Bitter at how everything turned out. I wanted to make everything better. I wanted to help. In the end, I did nothing. I was useless. I couldn't save Kaidan, and Shepard died because I did nothing.

For the moment, Shepard is a fallen hero, but I know what's going to happen soon enough. In a few weeks, they'll start dragging her name through the dirt without remorse. And worst of all... it's going to be so easy to do. After all, the dead can't defend themselves, so they have free reign to do whatever they wish. They can spin the events in whatever way they want. Who is going to say anything anyway? Some punk bouncer from Chora's Den? An asari archeologist with a close connection to a traitor Matriarch? A quarian? A krogan mercenary? Some Alliance grunt? The only one who might have some credibility is Garrus with his C-Sec connections, but he's just one man and he does have a reputation of being a loose cannon. We can't even defend her name after her death...

Frustration reaches the peak and I lash out, punching the tree. I immediately regret the decision, since it's quite painful, but I do feel better now. I can only wish that the tree had been Udina instead. Or the Council. So I stay like this, leaning against the tree, hand still pressed against the bark, wondering why life had to suck so much.

"I cannot say that what you did was a smart thing... but I have to admit that I wanted to do the same," someone says from behind me and I turn around to see Anderson.

"Eh, I can't really say that I care," I reply honestly.

"You might not care now, but I would advise against making an enemy out of Udina. Despite how unbelievable that may sound, he does have friends in higher places," he warns. Huh, I have to wonder why he even cares enough to warn me.

"From what I hear, you weren't exactly friendly with him when you helped us escape the lockdown," I remark, attributing my knowledge to random rumors. It always worked so far and I see no reason for him to think otherwise. After all, Udina was walking around with a black eye for a couple of days, from what I heard.

Anderson raised his eyebrows, probably surprised that I know, but he just shook his head in mild amusement. "Well, I can get away with it. You can't," he supplies and it makes sense. He outranks him too if I might add.

"I'll think about it," I finally agree. I think I made enemies of every major political figure on the Citadel in the past week alone. I really should stop doing stuff without thinking. "Sorry about yelling you, by the way," I apologize sheepishly. "I just... kinda lost it."

"It's understandable. I tried my best to convince them to do otherwise, but I had no luck, considering even the Alliance agreed with them. Admiral Hackett tried to help but it wasn't enough. I was completely outvoted," he says somewhat bitterly as he turns to look at the gathering. "It's hard to believe she's really gone," he remarks quietly, looking at the elevated monument.

I join him, staring at the picture, depicting a Kate in happier times. "I know," I agree. This feeling of finality is... gut wrenching. "After working with her for so long I just... didn't think it'll happen like this," I _knew_ it was going to happen but... I hoped for an alternative. "she had this air about her. Like she was going to live forever," I admit. It was this air of being unbeatable that made her such an amazing person to be around. Being with her on the battlefield made one feel unstoppable. In and out of the battlefield she was the most charismatic person I've ever known. She was fun to be around and she would always help someone in need. She was a good person. By proxy, I killed this good person, and I'll have to live with it. "I'll miss her..." I say, suddenly finding it hard to get any words out. It feels like I've got something in my throat...

Apparently, while I've been lost in thoughts, the ceremony ended. The crowd started to slowly disperse and walk to the exit and I spot Wrex and the others approaching me. Anderson notices it too and turns to me. "It was interesting to talk to you. I hope our next meeting will be under better circumstances," he says, offering me his hand.

I look at him oddly for a couple of seconds before I shake his hand. I honestly have no idea why he'd even want to know me. I'm not really anyone important. Plus, I have a feeling I'm going to be persona non grata by the end of the week so there's no benefit to him anywhere in associating with me. Then again, Anderson was never that kind of person to begin with. "I hope so too," I say in earnest and with that Anderson walks back to the crowd, probably to rejoin the Council.

"Bah, you had the right idea there. That Udina can drone on for hours. Too bad it's not Tuchanka. Otherwise I would've eaten him," Wrex grumbles in annoyance.

"I'm pretty sure he'd give you indigestion with how obnoxious he is," Tali remarks.

"Krogan don't get indigestion," Wrex corrects her but pauses. "but considering who're we talking about, you might be right..."

Wow, now I'm really glad that I got out of there. Everyone seems to be pissed. I think that I really _would _have punched him had I stayed. "So what now?" I ask aloud. The ceremony is done, and I'm pretty sure we're not going to the official funeral on Earth.

"We go drinking," Wrex decides immediately. "No arguing. You need it more than I do," he states, looking at us. Huh, that's new. Wrex is trying to look out for us.

"Sure. Let's go," I immediately say. I definitely need a drink. A couple of seconds later the others agree and we go to the closest drink-offering place.

* * *

"To Shepard, the woman with the biggest quad in the galaxy," Wrex lifts his glass of ryncol and we do the same. I find it a little bit amusing at how similar some of our traditions are, despite evolving light years away from eachother. We all are familiar with the tradition of raising a glass for the fallen.

"I really hope you mean it figuratively," I croak after downing the shot of vodka. Shit, this stuff is powerful! Burns all the way down. "Because that would be very awkward."

Wrex barks a laugh at that and Garrus looks a little ponderous until he nods. "Yeah. Not to mention uncomfortable," he remarks with a small grimace. "I don't think there's room for a quad. She wasn't very big to begin with..."

I nearly choke on the pickle I was chomping down on upon hearing these words. "Why are we talking about Shepard having four balls, if you don't mind me asking?" I ask, my face somewhere between a frown and an amused smile. That's definitely the most uncommon thing to talk about after a funeral ceremony.

"What, does the subject of testicles make you uncomfortable?" Wrex asks with obvious amusement.

After leaving the ceremony we escaped the mob of reporters – Wrex saw fit to toss them around again – and we left to the wards. Once we got there, Wrex quickly found a small pub and we quickly occupied a small table for all of us. Much to my disappointment, Ashley said she couldn't come, since she didn't see any point to go out when she's not allowed to drink yet. Still, she did make me promise to buy her a drink once she's out of the hospital, and I agreed to the request. Joker was... well, he wasn't really in the mood for anything. So far, we've been sitting here for about an hour, drinking and eating some snacks and I'm honestly ashamed to admit that I've been having a good time. I must note that so far it's the only place I've been to that doesn't play that cheesy techno music and instead plays genuine Earth rock music.

Out of all of us, only me, Wrex and Garrus were the still talkative ones. Liara was resting her head in her hands, having downed half a bottle of this asari brandy she ordered. Tali was still sipping her cocktail but she looks a bit drowsy, so I'm not going to say that she's not going to last much longer. I must note that Wrex is freaking awesome when he's drinking. He's cheerful and he cracks these lame jokes, usually at my expense.

"Why yes, as a male I'd prefer to talk about other things," I say haughtily. "Besides, having a quad seems like overkill. I've got a pair, and that's enough for me," I add as an afterthought.

To my surprise both Garrus and Wrex snorts. Hell, even Tali looks amused at that. What the hell did I say? "More than enough?" Wrex asks with a grin. "I don't see you using that pair, so how is that more than enough for you?"

My jaw drops.

"That's true. You're too awkward around females," Garrus adds, causing me to look at him incredulously with utter disbelief. _I'm the awkward one?!_ Garrus, the bullshit you're spouting is unbelievable. "Or at least around Shepard," he adds with a small smirk.

Oh, no. Oh, no no no. You did _not_ go there!

"He's right, you know?" Wrex joins in the fun. "Even the turian gets more than you do," he says and Garrus shrugs with a grin. "And he's right about Shepard too."

No. Simply no. I am not having this conversation. "The hell are you talking about?" I ask, equally confused as I am angry.

"I'm not that good with human body language, but yours completely changed when you spoke with Shepard," Tali speaks up, her words just slightly slurred. "And you did act a bit... awkward when you spoke with her. Not as open as you usually are," she adds.

Slowly and mechanically, I turn my head to shoot the quarian the biggest betrayed look I can muster. What is it with this day? The two most awkward people when it comes to romance are calling _me_ awkward. Wrex just laugh loudly. "The only reason we haven't told you until now was because it was too funny to watch and I'd feel bad for ruining everyone's fun," the krogan says with a grin and everyone grins. Hell, even _Liara_ stirs from her alcohol induced sleep to nod.

Hell, fucking, no! I'm not going to let them have their fun on my expense. "Well," I begin, narrowing my eyes and staring directly into Wrex's crimson orbs. "I might not be using my pair..." I pause there and everyone stares at me with anticipation. Garrus even leans in. "But at least my pair is still in working condition."

The silence is deafening. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. No one says a word. I think that even the bartender on the other side of the room stopped moving. Is it me or did the music get quieter too. Wrex is simply staring at me without any expression on his face. No range, no surprise, no amusement. Nothing. I feel like I just signed my death warrant. Then Garrus breaks the tension.

"Oooooooooh, that's a low blow," he remarks with a cringe.

Wrex roars in laughter. I inwardly sigh in relief. At least he can take insults well. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you have a quad but you just never learned how to count!" he leans over and gives me a light punch on the shoulder... which probably dislocated it, but I'm a bit drunk and I can ignore the pain for now.

My supposed crush on Shepard aside, all this talk about the woman reminds me of the fact that she's dead. And this makes me depressed again. I let out a long sigh. "I miss her," I admit.

No one says anything at that, though their smiles drop at my words. Great, now I feel bad for ruining the mood. "We all miss her," Garrus says, pouring himself another drink.

"You'll get over it, eventually," Wrex adds, pouring another for himself.

I'm not sure it will get better anytime soon. Nor am I sure I'll ever get over it, at least until she comes back. Even then... I don't know. I'm not entirely sure I even want to get over it. I want to remember what I did... so something like this won't happen again. I might have did the galaxy a favor, but Kate died for this. Fuck the people. Screw the galaxy. If I get the chance, I'll never allow anything like this to happen again, to hell with the consequences.

I look at the bottle of vodka for a long while. Just a little less than half of it remains. I grab it, not bothering with the shot glass. "I'm not sure about you, but I want to get so drunk that I won't be able to remember this day ever happened," with that, I bring the bottle to my lips and gulp down the burning liquid. Some of it spills down to my shirt but I don't care. Once the final drop goes down my throat I slam the bottle to the table and take a long, painful breath, coughing a few times. Note to self: never do this again.

Wrex and Garrus are looking at me in surprise. Wrex even looks slightly impressed. Instead of saying anything, Garrus simply downs his glass in one go. "I'm in," he announces.

We both look at Wrex who only grins in response. "You have to ask?"

I grin slightly at that and look at the bar. "Bartender! Another one!" I yell, holding the empty vodka bottle.

* * *

"Pink! It was love at first sight! Pink when I turn out the liiiight!" I sing, voice slurred and Garrus isn't much better. "And pink gets me high as a kiiite! And I think everything is going to be alright no matter what we do toniiiight!" we finish the chorus with Garrus nearly laughing his ass off and dropping me to the floor. Sometime during the night Wrex threw my crutches off some balcony, leaving me barely able to walk. Well, I would've been barely able to walk, but I'm shitfaced drunk, so I really can't walk _at all_. This was quickly amended when the equally drunk Garrus volunteered to drag my sorry ass home. And so, it fell down to me to make the journey a lot more fun, so I turned on my omni-tool and taught the first song to come up to Garrus.

"And again!" I yell and we start singing the chorus again. "Pink it was love at first siiiiight, yeah! Pink when I turn out the liiiight! Pink its like red but not quiiiite. And I think everything is going to be alright no matter what we do toniiiiight!"

I'm pretty sure that Garrus does _not_ know what the song is really about... but that makes it all the more fun to sing with him. The song ends and I searching for another song to sing when I spot our location. Holy shit! We're already here? I thought it will take longer than that. "We're here!" I announce to Garrus.

"Really?" Garrus asks, looking around and incidentally letting me go, allowing to crash to the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" I yell from the floor, though I can't help but laugh as I scream bloody murder at him. Garrus joins me in laughing and offers me a hand to lift me up but I just pull the arm and make him fall to the floor, face first.

"You bastard!" He yells between bursts of laughter. We just lie there on the cold floor, laughing our asses off like morons. This... this is good. "Alright," Garrus breathes out once he calms down. "Let's get up," he says as he sluggishly gets back up. Once he's done he stares at me in confusion, because I'm still on the floor.

"Help! I'm a cripple and I can't get up!" I whine as I try to roll myself over to my stomach. Garrus laughs again and just grabs me by my arms and pulls me up. "Ow! Careful with those!" I protest at the manhandling when his talons dig a little to deep into my arm.

"Oops, sorry," he quickly apologizes, though he doesn't sound like he's sorry at all. I point him to the right direction and he drags me over to the door of the building. "You know, considering the occasion, this wasn't such a bad night," he remarks.

"Yeah," I agree. I'd love to think that Shepard would approve of how we spent the night. "We should do it again," I say, then pause. "Just without the funeral part and that other shit," I quickly add, getting another laugh from the turian.

"Definitely. The others are staying for another day, so how about we get together before they leave again?" he suggests.

"For sure. Just remind me to keep my crutches away from Wrex... that asshole," I say with a little laugh. I don't know, the thought of Wrex taking away a half-cripple's only mode of transportation is hilarious in my opinion, even if that half-cripple is me. I have to admit that seeing one of my crutches cracking the windshield of one of those flying cars was breathtaking. And hilarious.

"Do you even have another pair?" he suddenly asks.

"No!" I say with a burst of laughter. "So drop by tomorrow and give them back to me. I'm pretty sure C-Sec will pick them up for vandalism or something..."

He finally drags me over to the door and positions me in a standing position. It's a difficult task but after a few tries he succeeds. I can't say that I was helpful, since I was finding it too funny for my own good. "Alright, I'm pretty sure you _can_ get to the elevator from here. So if you don't mind, I'll try getting home without falling somewhere," he says with an amused smile.

I snort at that. "Sure. I think I'll fall down in the elevator or something, but I'll eventually get up," I say with a shrug. "Probably tomorrow morning."

"Good enough for me," he says with an all-too-amused grin. "I'll be seeing you later!" and with that he starts walking away, swaying every few steps. "Get better soon. I don't to drag you home again!"

"See you! Good night and good luck with tomorrow's hangover!" I yell after him. He pauses for a split second, as if wanting to say something but then he simply waves it off and keeps on walking. I chuckle to myself as I enter the code and open the door to the apartment building.

To my shock, I manage to get to the elevator without falling down even once. My steps are feeble and I have to use the wall to keep myself upright but I manage to do it without too much embarrassment. I reach the apartment without much trouble and I enter my temporary home without issues. Ah, the future: where drunk people don't have to fumble and drop the keys a dozen times in order to get back home. Now I just wave my hand, the lock registers my omni-tool profile and opens the door for me.

"Honey! I'm home!" I yell as I enter but then remember that no one is home. Jorrun and Lucy are at the Den, working, so I have the entire apartment for myself.

"About damn time you got here," comes the amused reply from behind me. I spin around to the source of the voice, nearly lose my balance, and stop to stare at the Chairman, who is casually leaning against the wall by the door. How the hell did I miss him? He's pretty much the same as the last time I saw him. Same trenchcoat, same blond hair and same silly grin.

"You..." I say as a greeting.

"Wow, you're smashed," he remarks with an amused smirk. "You should stop drinking like this, it's unbecoming of you. I kinda expected you to be all pissy and emotional with the funeral and all, but I'm honestly surprised at how drunk you got."

My eyes narrow. "Fuck you," I say angrily. "Get the hell out of here," I point at the door.

"Awww," he whines. "Don't be like that! You know that she had to die. You have no idea what would've happened! She's dead, so what's the big deal is she's coming back? So stop bitching about it already and get the fuck over it!"

I'm not exactly sure at exactly which point I stopped listening and started seeing red. The way he was speaking so... casually about her death just... broke whatever measure of self control I had. For the moment, I wasn't too drunk to move. For this moment, my back wasn't injured and my legs were fully responsive. For this single moment, the only thing I knew were my fists and my rage.

The next thing I know I'm on top of him, straddling him and punching him in the face over and over. "You sun of a bitch!" I yell between punches. One punch produces a resounding crack as his nose breaks. "You don't even fucking care!"

And then everything simply stops for a split second and then I'm blinded by a bright blue light. I vaguely feel that I'm no longer on the ground. That I'm floating weightlessly. Then the feeling stops when my back impacts the ceiling and I plummet down to the floor and land into the glass coffee table, shattering it on impact, cutting my hand in the process. A second later a powerful hand grabs me by the back of my neck, lifts me up and then I'm violently slammed against the wall and held there by one hand.

My vision clears and I can finally see through the bright light to see a thoroughly furious Chairman, biotic energies swirling around him like a bright storm. He leans towards me and for a split second I feel like I just brushed with death. I just know that he could've killed me within a blink of an eye.

"Never... _ever,_" he growls into my face, wiping his bleeding nose with his free hand. "Say that again. You can say whatever you want about me, curse me, wish me dead, hell, I even allowed you to hit me! But _never_, under _any circumstances_, say that I don't care!" he roars into my face and throws me, with one arm, to the floor. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't be here. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be wasting my time on anything you do, if I didn't care, I would _not_ be involved in this whole mess to begin with!" he spits out, straightening his coat and wiping his still-bleeding nose again. "Now pick yourself up and stop embarrassing yourself. She's dead, but she'll come back. It's not the end of the world, yet. Get a hold of yourself and start acting your age," he says, looking at me without hiding his disgust. With that, he walks to the door, but not before stopping for the last time.

"I'll come back once you're somewhat sensible again," he says and with that, he leaves.

At that, I'm left alone, still lying on the floor, feeling more tired and broken than before, hands bleeding, head aching and wondering how I'm going to explain the broken coffee table to Jorrun and Lucy.

It didn't take me long to reach a single conclusion: this day sucks.

* * *

**Yeaaah... the Chairman has more to him than what I showed until now. He's a biotic too! Now, enough about him! I'd rather keep the mystery for a while longer!  
**

**And so... another chapter done. A little longer than the usual, and it's good. I've been writing this thing for the whole day! Rejoice, for I have spent my single day off on this chapter. Not that it's a bad thing. I enjoyed writing it. Especially the last parts, which flowed more freely than the beginning, or the ceremony scenes. It was rather... difficult to write. Still, it's done and I can promise you that the next chapter will be... more fun. And less angsty too. So get ready, for the ride is going to start soon enough and once again, we'll be balls-deep in the action!**

**As always, thank you for reading this story! I enjoy the fact that so many of you love this story so much! Your reviews always make me happier, so for that, you're awesome! If you spot anything wrong, or anything that you feel out of place, feel free to tell me about it, and I'll do my best to fix it, if it's possible. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, so don't be shy and tell me about it, even if you have to tell me my story is utter shit. I'll probably just take note, improve and outright ignore you ^^. So yeah, don't be a lurker and embrace the light of reviewing! I want to know what you think! Next chapter will be ready... when it's ready. Not promising a date, but I'll try to get it out soon enough. Until next time, Delvaro out!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello there! First of all... I'm so, so sorry about the longest delay ever! You won't believe how hard RL kidney punched me. It's rather ironic too. My back pains are apparantly caused by a circular deformation in the L5-S1 area of my spine, I had to reformatt my pc when it went to hell (again) and I had to rewrite this whole chapter from scratch, I had the worst case of some throat infection backed up by a horrible asthma attack (this resulted in horrible pain every time i caughed, because of the aching throat) and all in all, I was feeling like shit. At least I got medical leave from my shitty job for a week or so. **

**Anyway, this chapter is short, and I can't really say that I'm that pleased with it. It's not my best work. But in my estimations, things will be awesomely interesting in about... dunno, 2-4 chapters. Hopefully sooner if I do everything right! Now... well, enjoy this chapter! You waited long enough for it as it is. It's not my best work... but meh, it's what you get for now :P Things will get better, I promise!**

* * *

The punch is sailing towards my face and in all honesty... I find it lacking. After facing Saren in close combat – even if it lasted only for a couple of seconds – this speed is simply... cringe-worthy. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm faster than this. No, not sure. I know I'm faster than this. It's just slow and not very accurate, though being drunk doesn't help his accuracy.

I move to dodge the punch and let it sail by my head... but considering I'm drunk off my ass as well, I have to admit that my reaction time is not in it's best. Still, I dodge the punch, mostly at least. A glancing hit on my cheekbone. Pretty much brushing my face. It doesn't hurt. After what I've been through it just doesn't move me in any way. For a second it stings and then it's gone, not registered by my brain. Then again, it might be the alcohol. It dulls the pain after all.

But still... he landed a hit on me. Some nameless asshole landed a hit on me. That awakens the proverbial beast in me. From this distance I don't need precision or any aim. I ram my body into his, interrupting his second punch and simply start slamming my fists into his stomach and ribs. One, two, three. Right, left, right. The cheers and screams of the crowd barely register in my mind. After the fifth punch that ignored his feeble defense he just ducks down in a failing attempt to protect his injured abdomen. Perfect. I grab his now-lowered head with both hands and slam it into my rising knee. He drops down after this, groaning in pain. Yep, he won't be getting up after this. Ugh, though I think the knee strike was a bad idea. My lower back is throbbing at the moment from all the sudden movements.

I turn around and raise my arms in victory just as the roars of applause erupt in my direction. The fact that essentially the entire club came out to watch me kick this asshole's ass and are now cheering for me is better than any drink I can buy. I walk back inside with a sheepish grin, passing through the crowd, getting congratulating pats on the back and shoulders, and even a drink shoved into my hands. However, my road is blocked by the krogan bouncer. "You're stealing my job," he points out, standing in such a way the tells me that I shouldn't enter the club if I don't want broken bones.

Immediately, the small crowd starts protesting for my sake. I simply do the most awesome thing that I could do at this moment, and one that I always wanted to do. I raise a hand, and they immediately quiet down. I look around to see that it actually worked. Hah! Fucking awesome! I turn to look at the krogan, holding up a finger, hoping he'll understand the gesture, and turn to the bar. "Hey Barman!" I call over the loud music. "Give this fella a round of ryncol from me!" I roar, pointing at the bouncer. Hey, I've been a bouncer, and I know it sucks when someone steals the people you're being paid to beat up. I had to stand for hours, not being able to have fun and my only source of amusement were drunk people who I had to throw out. I'm pretty sure the krogan is not an exception.

The krogan looks surprised but then narrows his eyes. "I don't drink on the job," he says.

Ah, yeah. Forgot that. I couldn't drink on the job either. Well, that's easily fixed. "Barman! Give him that round once his shift ends!" I rephrase the order.

The krogan stares at me for a couple of seconds before bursting out in laughter. "I think I like you!" he says with a grin. "Go ahead," he says after a long chuckle and moves out of the way, letting me enter back into the club.

I down the oddly-sweet drink that I was given and hand the empty glass to one of the nearby patrons. Ah, I love it when I can deal with bouncers without a fight. I'm pretty sure I can land a few good hits on him, but since I'm a bit drunk, and he's a krogan, I'd lose anyway. Now... back to what I was doing before that idiot interrupted me. I thank the crowd and move to the small table I claimed as my own on the other side of the club.

Club _Rosa Rosa_ was one of the most successful clubs on the Citadel. It boasted some actually good techno music, and not only that, but various other Earth music. In fact, it was essentially the only club on the Citadel completely run by humans.

I pass through the relatively crowded dance floor, loud techno music deafening me and flickering lights blinding me and half naked women dancing on the main stage distracting me. Thankfully, I manage to pass through the crowd without bumping into people too many times. Though I did bump into a couple of cuties on my way to my table and I can't complain about that. Not that I'll bother with them. I've got something better, after all!

I finally reach my table and crash down onto the overly comfortable couch, grabbing the bottle of liquor and pour myself another round. I quickly down it, closing my eyes and enjoying the sweet aftertaste the drink leaves. Asari sure love sweet things, and I realize that I'm in love with asari liquor. At this point a now-familiar weight settles on to my lap. I open my eyes, grinning like an idiot, and meet the eyes of the dancer I pretty much hired for myself. Long blond hair, beautiful face and an even more beautiful body – which is a given considering her profession – and I must note that the amount of clothing on her doesn't leave much for my imagination. "My, what a hero you are," she remarks with sly smirk, hints of her french accent showing when she says the 'R'.

I shrug, still smiling. "What can I say? I'm a chivalrous man."

A hand suddenly brushes the back of my neck and from there moves down my neckline. A second later I feel someone's hot breath on my left ear and a smooth feminine voice speaks "Consider this on the house," she says, making me shiver as I felt her lips just barely brush my ear. A second later another dancer walks into my view.

This one is more... exotic, to say the least. Purple-pink hair, tattoos cover her arms and back and quite frankly, she looks hot. She's also the reason why I fought that guy. You don't touch the dancers unless you are explicitly told that you can. He wasn't told that. She protested, he didn't care, and I haven't seen any bouncers coming over and so my Bouncer-Sense turned on and the rest is history.

My grin morphed into a shit-eating grin. Now I have two dancers. Simply... awesome!

Another thing that the _Rosa Rosa_ boasts is the nearly human-only dancers. Which is rare. From what I heard, the asari basically have the entire business in their hands and are running a monopoly over it. Which is logical when you remember that pretty much all the races find asari attractive. Then again, there isn't that many physical differences between asari and humans anyway. As one turian once pointed out "It's the same as watching asari... only more hairy,". Not really sure if it's meant as a compliment or not. Still, there were many who wanted to see the human women do what the asari had been doing for centuries. Thus most of the patrons in this club are either humans who want to see some human girls dancing, or curious aliens who want the same thing.

The second dancer climbs on the table, which has a conveniently place pole in the center of it, and proceeds to start a dance. The blond one – I think her name is Vivi... or something like that – takes the bottle off the table and proceeds to pour me another shot. Meanwhile, I'm staring at the pole-dancing beauty in front of me. I honestly prefer human dancers. Maybe it's because it's my own race? I have no idea. I take note that my glass is now full and I lift it in the dancer's direction and down it in one gulp, enjoying the peculiar way the drink burns and then immediately leaves that sweet taste in my mouth. Vivi then pick up the small bowl from the table and places it on her lap, then she takes one of the pink barriers in it and moves it to my mouth, sporting a very amused look. I raise an amused eyebrow at that but still open my mouth, allowing her to feed me. The berry – named Esel-something, forgot the name already but I know that these one are imported all the way from Thessia – tastes like pure awesome. Sweet, but not too much with a bit of sourness added on the side. Not to mention that they have eezo in them, so I'm eating eezo too. Is that why it's sweet? Or is it the source of the sourness? Does element zero even has taste? Putting these thoughts aside, I settle on the fact that these berries are very tasty, as they should be, considering I paid a thousand credits for this small bowl.

Now, most people I know will probably wonder why the hell do I have a hot woman feeding me and another one dancing for me. The answer is quite simple, really: fame and a bit of money. Pretty much every person on this station knows who the guy with the big nose and scars on his face is. By now they stopped pointing fingers at me and staring, but they definitely know who I am. People in this club are not excluded. It's the reason why I got my own table instead of being left to mingle with the crowd or haunt the bar. That, and the fact that I spent _a lot _of credits tonight.

Vivi then puts one berry in her mouth and holds it between her teeth and then leans over to me.

Ooh, so that's how she's going to play it? In this case, hell fucking yeah! She reaches me and I collect the berry with my tongue, our lips touching briefly but she quickly pulls away before more could happen, brandishing a teasing smile. I give her a pouty frown in response, which gets me a little laugh out of her. As if trying to console me, she refills my glass and then stands up from my lap and climbs up to the table to join the second girl.

What follows is the most enticing, erotic and amazing dances I have ever seen in my life time. I'm pretty sure that I'm sitting like a moron, transfixed on the sight like a zombie. I'm pretty sure the temperature in the room has risen by... a lot. Hell, they even started making out for a brief moment! And all the while... they are giving me these suggestive looks that make me feel hot inside.

My shit-eating grin grows larger.

* * *

"Uuuugh, _what the fuck!?_" I groan out as I open my eyes, immediately regretting it and groaning again. Other than the fact that my head feels like a krogan decided to jump on it repeatedly the source of my discomfort is the incredibly annoying – and painful – buzzing and ringing noise coming from the door's direction. Conclusion: someone's at the door. Solution: break their fingers and then their skull.

Ah, goddammit. I open my eyes with difficulty, head throbbing painfully and vision slightly blurred. I look around, trying to find my cane but it's nowhere in sight. Damn. I roll off the bed, managing to lose the tangle of blankets that covered me and somehow manage to land upright. That is, on my hands and knees. From there I make my way to the door, stumbling only once when I tripped over one of my boots, and I finally reach the door and open it without checking the external cameras to see who it is. It doesn't matter. They will suffer the same fate anyway.

The first person I see is Jorrun, and then I see Lucy standing beside him. The second thing I see is Lucy yelping in surprise and turning around while Jorrun rolls his eyes and looks away. What a strange reaction. Lucy is adamantly refusing to look at me. And it's pretty chilly... oh, wait. I look down and see that I am, in fact, wearing absolutely nothing. Oh.

… a bit awkward if you ask me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I ask, turning to look at Jorrun, deciding to ignore this ever happened.

"Spirits, put some clothes on first," he says with some desperation.

Ugh. I move out of the way and into the room in search of my missing clothes. By the nine hells, I am never drinking this much ever again. My head is buzzing and the area behind my eyes is throbbing painfully. The room is... quite frankly, a mess. My clothes are lying about, pretty much thrown all over the room, including some clothes that didn't belong to me. I'll ignore it for a couple of seconds. I finally find a pair of boxer shorts that were lying on the floor by the small closet and quickly pull them on. "Now, what the hell do you want from me this early?"

Apparently taking it as a hint that I'm relatively dressed now, Joe enters the room with Lucy in tow. "So this is where you live now? A bit on the cheap side, isn't it?" He remarks while Lucy was looking around at the mess with a raised eyebrow. "And it's not early, it's already past this 'noon' of yours."

"And considering I went to sleep in the _morning_, it's goddamn _early_ for _me_," I point out with my best glare. "Now, I'll ask you again. What the hell do you want?" I ask with my best hostility. Maybe if I'll act like an ass he'll leave? I move to the small bathroom to wash my face with some cold water.

"Just checking if you're still alive," I hear Joe remark casually back from the room. I open the tap and simply place my head beneath the running cold water. The sensation is amazing, though bending down like this over the sink is a bit nauseating. "Oh, and the good old Don Capriotti called me this morning – waking us up, by the way – and told me that you spent a small fortune, fifteen thousand credits, to be exact, on just two dancers, not counting the impressive amount of drinks you bought, and then, to top it off, you proceeded to kidnap them right out of the club."

I grin at that thought, blurry and a bit hazy memories from last night entering my head. Oh yeah, that was _definitely_ a good night. I will never look at a pair of female lips the same way ever again. "In my defense, _I _was the one being kidnapped," I call out, grabbing a towel to dry my wet head.

I enter the room just in time to see Jorrun inspecting a pair of thin, black panties, a G-string if I'm correct, by the tips of his talons. He looks at me with his version of a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Niiiice," he remarks, giving the undergarment another appraising look. This got Lucy's attention and he holds it up for her to see, "don't you agree, eh? Almost as good as yours!" he says with a grin. This gets him a punch to the shoulder, which makes him drop the forgotten undergarment to the floor. "Ow."

Ugh, not information that I needed to know.

Huh, now that I think about it, how did she even leave without them? I'm pretty sure that this was what she wearing to begin with! I'm pretty sure I haven't seen another hidden pair of her. Joe ducks down and picks another article of clothing, this time a bra. "And what about this? Judging by the size... hm, impressive!" he gives me a respectful nod and looks back at Lucy. "Don't you ag-" he's cut off by another vicious punch to the shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure you're not here to evaluate what the dancers were wearing," I point out dryly. As amusing as it is, I'm still pissed off. "So what the hell do you want?"

"Dancers? Plural?" Joe perks up at that. "You left with two, but I wasn't expecting... wow, now I really _am_ impressed," Joe looks outright shell-shocked. "Looks like I owe Johnson money. We kinda thought you prefer guys... Johnson said that you simply have high standards."

I think I cracked a tooth right now from how hard I'm grinding my teeth at the moment. I think I shouldn't mention the small fact that I barely had any idea what I was doing with the two to begin with. One woman is more than enough for me. Two? I'm completely lost. Thankfully, they knew more than enough what to do with _me_.

Another odd fact, I'm pretty sure that the owner of the bra came in only with the bra. So... why the hell did they leave half naked? Or even more half-naked than they initially were to begin with? A quick look around told me that the shirt I was wearing was missing, so it possibly explains how she left. Now I can't have a reputation of a guy who sends half-naked women out of his den! Although it does look like a rather lame trade-off. She gets my shirt, and I get a bra.

"Ugh, we're just worried about you," Lucy decides to take lead, seeing as Jorrun wasn't going to stop being an ass.

"Is that right?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. "And what, you're going to ban me from _another_ club?"

Joe and his damn connections. I've had to switch clubs and bars eight times by now. I drink there for one night, and then the next time I come there, the bouncers, or whoever is there, are refusing to serve me, or outright kick me out. After asking enough times, I found that it they got a call from Jorrun with a request to do that. Goddamn asshole.

"Sadly? I can't. After the money you spent there, the Don would only be happy to see you again, though he is a bit worried that he might go out of business because you paid those two dancers half their monthly wages," Jorrun explains, more than amused by the whole thing. "Look, you're a good friend and -"

"Friend?!" I cut him off, pent up anger rising to the surface. "I'm sorry, but is this how you treat your friends? You fucking fired me!" I yell at him.

"_Of course_ I fucking fired you! You broke that guy's jaw and his arm in two places! And that other guy? You nearly snapped his fucking neck! Your job is to throw assholes out of the club, not throw them out in pieces! I can't let you work if you nearly kill every drunk asshole you lay your eyes on!" he shoots back, raising his voice. "Look, I get it. I really get it. Shepard died, you're pissed off about everything that everyone's saying about her now and you were mourning. I get it. But it's already been a whole fucking month! Get your head out of your ass and move on!"

"Fuck you! I can't just move on li-" I begin but I'm cut off by the turian again.

"Shut the hell up while I'm talking to you. People die all the time. Get used to it. The galaxy is not a nice place, and you fucking know it. People have different ways to cope with it, but you're just... you're just drowning yourself in alcohol until you pass out every night! I loaned you some money when you decided to leave our house for this dump, and what did you do with it? Threw it all away on booze. Do you even _have _any money? What's the next bad habit you're going to pick up? You know what, I don't care. Either you go back to the Den, or you get yourself a new job. If I have to ban you from every club and bar on the whole station, I'll do it. Let's go."

With that, Joe leaves the room. Lucy stays behind for a moment, giving me an apologetic look. "If you need anything, come to the Den," and with that, she leaves after her husband, leaving me alone.

I stand there for a minute or so, thinking about what he said. With a sigh, I take a seat on the bed. Fucking Jorrun and Lucy. They're too fucking nice for me to stay angry at them. Can't say that I've been a good friend to them. They opened their door to me and how did I repay? Nearly got the Den sued and then threw a hissy fit when Joe fired me. The worst part? He's right. I've been doing exactly nothing but getting drunk and screwing around. Usually literally. I'm simply... so angry about everything. The media started questioning Shepard's actions, her motives, the Council declassified more information about our missions, mostly the parts where Shepard destroys prothean ruins and does something relatively questionable. Right now its almost harmless, just asking some questions, but I know where this is going, and it does not make me happy.

My omni-tool is still on my arm, so I turn it on and load up my financial page. 7000 credits with some small change. Pathetic. Everything I earned by risking my life and saving the galaxy was spent on drinks and women.

Goddammit. Joe is right. I should stop doing... whatever it is I'm doing. Not that I can be doing anything anyway, with just 7000 credits left. That's just about two nights in some club, and I still have to pay for this hotel room. Damn, I need a job. A real job. But... a small part of me is still a stubborn asshole, and refuses to go back to the Den. Jorrun fired me and I'm not going to come back asking him to take me back. Fuck that asshole. I'm going to find another job!

Speaking of jobs, I'm sure that I've seen some job offer in my mail... or something like that. I quickly open my mail and sift through it all. Junk mail, junk mail, mail from Joe, junk mail, ah! There it is. An offer that I supposedly can't refuse. I've skimmed through it before and I can recall something about a commercial. Not sure. I might've been a little bit drunk at that moment. Aaaand... there we go! They want me to participate in some commercial and they're offering me – whoa! That's a number with an impressive number of zeroes in it. Forty-thousand credits. For a commercial. That's pretty awesome! Now all I need to do is write a reply and hope they didn't find someone else!

I turn off the omni-tool, feeling more than a bit satisfied with myself. Now I just need to wait for their reply, and I'm set. It's just a commercial. It shouldn't be so hard, right?

I look around the room and my eyes land on the half-empty bottle of brandy I brought home with me, lying on the floor by the nightstand. I stare at it for a few long moments before I decide to grab it. I paid a lot of money for it. I can't just throw it away, now can I?

As I take a small gulp from the bottle I can only hope that this commercial is worth my time. There was nothing in the letter that told me what the commercial is _about_. So... let's hope it's something cool! Yeah, let's go with that.

Ugh, I'm pretty sure this brandy didn't taste this bad last night...

* * *

**Aaaand... we are done! Yeah, this chapter can be easily summarised as a filler, but such things must be done in order to advance the story as a whole. So no complaining. My story, my rules. Hah. Either way, like I said, things should be getting better soon. 2-4 chapters, max. Maybe even less if I do things right. I'm repeating myself. **

**Anyway, hopefully this time I won't get sick, or my spine won't snap in half which would force me to travel to moscow nearly every freaking day off I have. Goddamn job. At least the medical treatment is free for me. Maybe I should become a bartender? It surely pays more than my shitty retail job. Less idiots, I'm sure of it. **

**Thanks for reading! Your reviews are amazing and they make me feel amazing! Thank you again! Feel free to tell me what you think, what you think might improve the story, hell, tell me what sucks, and I'll do my best to make sure it _doesn't_ suck. Once again, thank you, and feel free to review! Don't lurk in the dark! Until next time, Delvaro out! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello people! First of all, the original plan involved me finishing this chapter three weeks ago. Secondary plan had me finish this last weekend. As you can see... both failed and I got it out only now, so sorry for that. Life's been... busy? I was either too busy with my job (total war with boss-lady) or I was plain busy doing random stuff that left me no time to write. Like Saints Row 4. Seriously. BUY THIS GAME. I'll even play with you. Someone absolutely MUST make a mass effect crossover with Saints Row 4, at least a good one. If you play the game, you'll see why I'm saying this. Honestly, I played a lot of games, and some of them have coop or multiplayer. Whenever I'm bored, I won't mind chillin' with you in game or something. Send a PM if you want to. **

**Back to topic. This chapter seemed longer when I was writing it. Well, it's not as long as I thought it was, which slightly disappoints, but it's longer than the last , that's good. Anyway, I've finally finished it and here it is. On another note... seriously? No one is offering to make a story cover picture? Don't make resort to microsoft paint! Enjoy the new chapter! I'll say the rest of the things I want to say later! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

A massive explosion, a geth ship crashes down, lots of rounds are being fired all over the place. A huge battlefield. And I then I stroll into view, shooting down a geth platform casually without looking at it, using a rifle one-handed. All this while not wearing a shirt. Just a pair of beach shorts.

"Slaughtering geth by the hundreds is no easy feat," I pause, throwing a grenade that I pull out of nowhere over my shoulder without looking to blow up ten geth platforms that were trying to sneak up on me. "Especially when you use lady-scented body spray."

Another geth dropship looms into view, slowly flying over to my location. I scoff, unimpressed, and take out a small red can and spray in the ship's direction. With an epic explosion, the dropship starts dropping to the ground. I turn to look back at the viewer with a casual smirk. "But anything is possible when your man smells like a_ real_ man, and not like a lady," the dropship finally crashes to the ground, creating a massive explosion behind me, silhouetting me awesomely.

"Sadly, your man might not be me, but he can _smell_ like me," I hold up the can in front of me, so everyone could see it. "My name is Alex Engelstein, and _this_, is my favorite body spray on the Citadel. Old Spice, the new smell of battlefield," from there, my awesome visage is replaced by a close up of the product I'm holding up.

…

I can only stare dumbly at the screen, ignoring Johnson's hysteric laughter in the background. This... this is... I'm speechless. I am literally without words to say. By now Jorrun joined Johnson in his laughter.

I've helped saving this galaxy. I was part of the most badass team in the galaxy and managed to somewhat keep up. I have fought one of the best Spectres in the past century. But compared to this it's... I raise my fist into the air, looking down with my eyes closed, nearly close to tears. "This... is the greatest achievement in my life," I finally declare, prompting even more laughter out of my friends.

"Holy crap! When Jorrun said that you finally found a job, I wasn't expecting _this!_" Johnson manages to say between fits of laughter.

"Hey! Stop laughing!" I finally snap at him. At least he could try to be a bit nicer about it!

When I finally found out who I was doing the commercial for, I literally died inside from the sheer awesome I've experienced at that moment. Freaking Old Spice wanted me to do a commercial. In my opinion, their commercial's are the best in the world. Correction: in the galaxy! And I'm in one! And I must admit, I look outright awesome. I'm not exactly buff or anything, but I do have some defined muscles on me. I've never been big in stature to begin with. It gives me this... lithe athletic look. Also, just like I have been promised, the scars on my face made me look like a total badass.

Filming the whole thing? Epically fun. The guys I worked with were incredibly nice and fun. They even allowed me to add my own line, the one about this being my favorite thing on the Citadel! I couldn't help it. I simply had to say it. Best part? Old Spice was mostly sold on Earth and the other human colonies and when they decided to branch out to the Citadel, they contacted me – since I'm famous and all that – so when they will be doing another commercial, they will be contacting me again. Freaking. Epic.

"Alright, leave the poor guy alone," Lucy interjects in my defense, though she does look like she wants to laugh.

"Yeah, you're just jealous that you don't get to be as awesome as I am," I add.

"Whatever you say, deodorant guy," he brushes me off, just like that. I hope this new nickname of his doesn't stick.

"Meh. Anyway, I just got paid, I'm mildly rich at the moment, so how about we go and celebrate? My treat," I say, standing up. As soon as I say that I'm going to pay, Johnson is already beside me before I even saw him move. Everyone stares.

"What? Free drinks," he says with a shrug, which kinda explains it all. Goddamn freeloaders. "We should pick up Tilben first though," with that we leave Joe and Lucy's apartment and head outside.

"Where is Tilben anyway?" I ask. When we gathered up, the absence of our salarian sniper was evident. When asked, Johnson just said that he had some business to attend to, and nothing more.

"Eh, just some 'top-secret', "he adds finger quotes here, "meeting with some family member. He's STG, I think."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that he has family in the STG?" I ask incredulously. Sure, I suspected that he had ties with the military – no one learns to shoot a sniper rifle like that while being a civilian – like Johnson who is ex-Alliance, but STG? I was honestly not expecting it.

Johnson scoffs at that. "Tilly was in STG himself," he reveals, making me widen my eyes further. "At least until he was discharged from service. Not my place to tell. If you want to know, ask him yourself."

Just... just what the fuck? "I don't get it. You're all... well..." I struggle to find the right words. "Fuck, you're ex-Alliance, Joe's a turian spec-op for all I know," he's being pretty tight-lipped about it – not that he has lips to begin with – but I've seen his armor and the equipment he used during the battle against the geth and Garrus only confirmed it: not the equipment general soldiers use. "and now Tilly is STG too? I don't get it. Why the fuck were you working for Fist? With all the things you can do, I'd think you'd go for something... bigger."

And for the most part, it's entirely true. Most turians either go merc or C-Sec after their end their service, unless they stay. Most ex-Alliance do exactly the same, though some prefer joining some companies as security personnel. And... well, I'm not sure what STG does when they retire. I don't think all of them open clinics on Omega like Mordin. Then again, Mordin is pretty eccentric.

"The reason I'm doing all this is because it's what I've always been doing," Johnson says after a couple of silent moments. "I think I've told you already, but I grew up on Earth," I nod at that, since I do recall him telling me that. "Well, I didn't grow up in the... nice parts, like you did. Grew up in the 'very poor' districts of New York. Right on the outskirts of the city. Best way to call it: slums. Had a sick mother and a father that worked in two jobs to support the family. My mom's had this fucked up genetic disease that cost a literal fortune to cure, and we obviously couldn't afford it..." he trails off for a moment, just looking ahead.

Wow... I didn't know that. Jorrun's not looking at Johnson, since I'm guessing he already knows all this. Lucy looks... pretty pissed, and I know why, because I'm pretty pissed too. Here we are, in this amazing space age, and we have fucking _slums_ on our home planet. Funny part? No one is doing anything about it. No wonder people leave Earth as soon as they can and start anew on some colony. Easier to leave instead of trying to fix the problem.

"Anyway, with most of our money being spent on treating my mom, I didn't exactly have... well, anything. To keep this short, since I doubt you want to hear my sob story, I went to the streets. Started doing small jobs to earn some money, got involved with gangs, then went on to bigger things. Drug trafficking, smuggling. Eventually settled in arms dealing, working for some mafia creep. Then, when I was seventeen, my mom died. Soon after that, my dad just signed me up with the Alliance and the next thing I know, I'm shipped off-world. Can't say it's been bad, taught me discipline and all that jazz, but it just... wasn't my thing. And constantly getting shot at was getting tiresome after a while."

"You're still being shot at," I remind him.

"True, but I get paid a lot more, and the drinks are on the house!" He says with a small laugh.

"So... how did you end up on the Citadel, working for Fist?"

"Well, I finally quit the army after the Blitz. Getting shot and nearly dying kinda made the whole thing lose some of it's appeal. After that... I guess I just travelled around for a couple of years, doing the odd job here and there until I bumped into a guy I worked with back on Earth and I found out that he's working on the Citadel and he's in a need for some good workers... and you can easily guess that I accepted. Started selling illegal weapon mods, my friend bit more than he could chew, got himself killed while I ended up working under fist."

"Huh," is all I have to say. I'm a bit weirded out by all of this. I've known him for so long, and I never bothered to ask him about his life until now. Then again... neither did they ask me, not that I'm complaining. "I... wasn't expecting that," and it's true. I kinda expected him to be the bodyguard type of person, not an arms dealer.

Johnson snorts at that. "Kid, life's full of surprises. Get used to it," he says with a grin. Oh boy, don't I know it. I look at Joe with curiosity and he rolls his eyes at that.

"Nope. Don't have a sob story to tell," he replies to my look. "C-Sec was too stereotypically... generic for me. I'd rather do something interesting. And fun."

I keep looking at him, hoping he'd go on, but he just stays silent. I glance at Lucy, but she just shrugs. Fine, she won't say anything, I get it. He's sort of my best friend, and I'm a little bit offended that he doesn't want to tell me. He told me about his dysfunctional family issues, so why is this so... well, secret? He finally sends me a questioning look when I don't stop staring at him. "That's it? Johnson's pouring his soul out and that's all you got to say?"

I ignore Johnson's muttering about him not pouring his soul out. "What's there to say? It's pretty boring in comparison. Left the army and settled on the Citadel and found some interesting work in a club with interesting company."

"Bullshit. At least, some parts of it are. I've seen your gear. People with that kind of gear don't just leave. Even I know that," I counter.

Johnson chuckles at that. "He got you there..."

"Really..." he says lengthily with the turian equivalent of a raised eyebrow. "In that case, why did you decide to work for Fist? I've seen your file. You grew up in the good part of town, got proper education and had many options open for you. Why start a crime career. What's _your_ sob story?"

I raise an eyebrow at how quickly he turned the whole thing around, avoiding the question and getting everyone's attention to me. Now everyone's looking at me with interest. Huh, now what the hell can I say? I never actually thought about answering such a question, despite being familiar with my file. Hmm... "Honestly? I've been kidnapped by an extra-dimensional douchebag and placed in this universe to save the galaxy and the only way to accomplish it was to work for Fist."

I gotta give credit to myself on this one. Despite how silly it sounds, and how true it is, I managed to say it with a straight face and with utmost seriousness. And I have to admit, it feels a bit... nice to be able to say it out loud, even though I know no one will believe me.

There's a long moment of silence until Johnson snorts in laughter. "I thought so," Joe says with a roll of his eyes. Yep, I guessed as much too, they took it as a joke. Safe so far, and ended all the questions.

"Really, I have no idea what you were expecting. Most people like us didn't really have happy lives, if you know what I'm saying. I mean, if we had perfect lives, I doubt we'd be selling illegal weapons, drugs and so on just to get by. Out of all of us, the only one mildly normal is Lucy... and you, kinda."

Said woman rolls her eyes at that. "Nothing special about me. Grew up in a loving family, finished college and went to the Citadel to finally make something out of myself. Wanted to be a great actress. Needless to say, I accomplished nothing and I didn't want to go back home with nothing, so I settled here and got a job in the Den, and the rest you can already guess."

Well... that does sound pretty normal. Compared to the rest of us, at least. Hm, well, questions are not over yet, if I have anything to say about it. "Back to our favorite salarian, how did you even meet Tilben? You know eachother for quite some time from what I gather."

"Oh, no. Don't let him start," Jorrun warns me with an exasperated tone. "it's his favorite story..." he explains to me as an afterthought.

"Hohoho, now that's a story!" Johnson says with gusto, visibly excited at the opportunity to retell the tale. "Now that was back during summer of '78, not that there was a summer to begin with, but anyway, I just started working for Fist and he gave me this big mission, which was pretty awesome because I was basically just hired. I just needed to move this big-ass truck from one end of the Citadel, to another. Pretty simple, right? The thing I didn't know at the time that I was given the job because I was expandable. Things are pretty calm now, but five years ago there was essentially a war between the crime lords, and Fist's convoys were constantly getting hit. The thing is... I didn't know that," he finishes with a little laugh.

"Oh," is the only thing I can say. "that's... bad."

"No shit. Anyway, he paired me up with this salarian who I've never met before who was supposed to be waiting for me at my destination. Then, halfway there, I get a call from him telling me that I should hurry the fuck up, because half of the goddamn Yakuza is after me. I didn't see anyone, everything was quiet and the last thing I needed is to make a scene, because the truck I'm driving is not connected to the system and is fully loaded with guns. So I think, it must be a joke, you know, fucking around with the new guy. One minute later: two cars are ramming into my sides, trying to divert me or make me crash, whatever, and another one is spraying me with a goddamn assault rifle. By the time I got to the warehouse, I swear the truck was falling apart. I didn't have time to stop, or even open the goddamn gate, so I just ram it through the gates and into farthest wall. The last thing I saw before I crashed into the wall was a single salarian with a sniper rifle, scared shitless, jumping out of my path!"

"Wait, wait. So you nearly ran over Tilben with a cargo truck?" I ask incredulously. Those things are big. Like, really big.

"You bet your ass I did," he says with a shit-eating grin. "So I get out of the truck with a massive headache – busted my head open in the crash – and see all these bodies, yakuza thugs, lying around in puddles of their own blood. Tilly took out a dozen of them all by himself when they tried securing the warehouse. I move around the truck and find the salarian there, just looking at the truck with this bored look on his face, and then he turns to me and without missing a beat, as if I didn't just create a huge hole in the wall, says -"

"The entrance could have been less dynamic," Jorrun interrupts with another roll of his eyes while Johnson bursts out laughing. "I don't get you. That line isn't even funny..." he trails off exasperatedly.

"Nah, you just had to be there," Johnson waves him off.

"Or you need brain damage to get it..." Jorrun mutters, just loudly enough for me hear him. I restrain my laughter.

"Anyway, from there we had to deal with the three cars that followed me. Ten minutes later, another dozen dead and we didn't even have a scratch on us, the shipment was secured and C-Sec wasn't even in sight! Fist even gave me a promotion after that, since he was totally expecting me to die and lose the shipment, and all that. Apparently, I was just a decoy so the real shipment could be moved peacefully. I wasn't even driving a full truck, mostly empty crates. He placed me together with Tilly and I gotta say, we were a pretty awesome team, all things considered."

"Huh. That's a pretty cool story," I finally say, and I'm honest about it. I don't have any cool stories of how I met all the interesting people I know. Well, there's the time when I met Tali, during her rescue. That's a fairly... dynamic introduction.

"I have to ask," Lucy interrupts, looking at me. "What are you planning on doing now? You're not coming back to the Den... so what now?"

Hm, true. Since I'm still kinda-famous, I'm just attracting too much attention to the Den. Not to mention the fact that the Den doesn't have the best of reputations. Joe bluntly said that he's won't take me back for a while, because he wants to set his business back up with some amount of peace and quiet. He offered me to load me some money, but I politely refused. I owe him enough as it is. This leaves me jobless.

But to my surprise, finding the answer is surprisingly... difficult. What the hell do I do now? I can always wait until the next commercial shoot, but that might take a very long time. I gotta eat, after all. Most importantly... I have two years, now less, to get ready for Shepard's return and so far, I've done exactly nothing. Not to mention... uh, what the fuck? My line of thought is completely derailed by what I'm seeing high above the plaza we're passing through.

"Holy shit," I say breathlessly, stopping in my tracks and simply stare at the large holographic billboard above us, where a particular commercial just started playing.

"I can't believe this..." Jorrun mutters as he joins me in staring.

The commercial plays out, looking a lot more awesome on such a big screen, until it is finally over. Even then, I still stand there and just stare. I notice in my peripheral vision that more than several random people are staring at me, and a couple of of guys even pointed at me right after the commercial ended.

"Uh... let's just go get Tilly," Johnson finally snaps us out of it, though he does sound a bit shell-shocked. Hah! I take it he wasn't expecting me to take the spotlight like this!

Oh yeah, bask in my awesome.

* * *

I take a sip of coffee, being careful not to burn my mouth. It's early morning and I decided to spend it drinking some coffee in one of the small coffee shops on the Presidium. All in all, it's a nice place. I picked a table outside of the main building, which offered a marvelous view of the lake. From what I heard, it's one of the best places on the Citadel – which is evident by the damn price of the coffee – so since I haven't been there before, I decided that I should visit.

On an odd note, it's the first time in a long while that I woke up before noon and completely sober. Last night was pretty... nostalgic. We just hanged out together, talked about random things, I talked a bit about my adventures with Shepard's crew – at least what I could tell them. The Council classified several parts, like the rachni being alive – and all in all, it was a relatively calm and enjoyable night.

Of course, not all my morning was spent doing nothing. Now that I had funds that I wasn't planning on drinking away, I finally settled one of the small problems I had. Getting my gear back in shape. The only thing I have left is my damaged helmet... and that's it. Thus, most of my morning was spent in stores. I was initially planning order myself one of the newest hardsuits but when I actually saw the prices... had to settle on one of the cheaper variants. Still better than my old one though, so I can't complain. Ordered a nice handgun too. After that... well, here I am, in this coffee shop. Waiting for Garrus, who I called over about thirty minutes ago.

I take another sip, while I browse through the latest news. Still no sign of Garrus, so I might as well do something more interesting than scouting the crowds. I'm pretty saddened by the fact that out of the entire team, only Garrus is actually available. Liara plain out vanished, though I suspect she's getting involved with the whole Shadow Broker thing, or will be involved soon. Tali is with the Migrant Fleet. Wrex is probably on Tuchanka. Ashley left a while back to continue her service – made full recovery! Sort of, at least. Has a bit of a stamina problem. Comes with having a hole in your lung – which leaves me and Garrus.

Garrus is still here, which opens up possibilities. I can always go with him to Omega when he finally has enough of C-Sec... but do I really want to? While the idea is tempting, do I really want to spend the next 2 years in that shithole, killing mercs? I'd get a lot of experience there but I feel that it's Garrus' adventure and that I'll be intruding. It's weird like that. Besides, another part of me wants to become an asset on my own. Back when Ashley was shot... I promised to myself that I'll become a threat to anyone I will ever fight, so no one else will be shot in my stead. When Shepard comes back, I want her to want me on my team because of how good I am, not just because I'm a friend.

Which leads me to the main question that has been bugging me since yesterday (thanks a lot, Lucy). What the hell am I going to do. I've been looking over my options and came to a quite depressing conclusion. The only thing I've become proficient in is killing. I'm not _good_ at anything else. I can try something else, but I won't receive the same level of accomplishment. What the fuck happened to me? Just a year ago, I was a boring guy with nothing special about him. Now? I'm probably at the top 100 of the most dangerous people of the Citadel. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. Top 500. But out of 13 million, that's saying something. Ugh, I have no fucking idea what's going on in my life.

As I browse the articles my eyes land on one in particular that catches my attention: _'Council refutes claims of approaching apocalypse'_. Huh, now that sounds interesting.

_'Citadel Council has finally responded to the many rumors circulating the extranet and other media since the geth invasion. According to the rumors, an ancient machine race called the Reapers – allegedly the ones responsible for the extinction of the protheans – is not a simple myth, but are real beings and the unknown geth flagship is in fact a real Reaper and like with the protheans before us, it is now our turn to vanish from this galaxy. Commander Shepard herself supported this theory. Could it be true? Was this invasion simply a way to test our defenses? Are we prepared to face the very same things that managed to bring down the prothean empire?_

_Council spokesman had this to say: "While the late Commander Shepard supported this rumor, it says a lot about her that she decided to support such a blatant lie so strongly. The rumor is just that, a lie fabricated by the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius to persuade the geth into joining him in his misguided quest for vengeance. There is no proof to support the existence of these Reapers. While Saren's flagship was a surprising turn of events, there is no evidence to tell us that it is a Reaper and our lead experts are more inclined to believe that it is an experimental geth dreadnaught that the machines have been building just for such an invasion..."_

_Recently declassified files regarding Saren Arterius support the claim that the whole invasion is a result of Saren's thirst for revenge. Attached link: __Relay 314 Incident/First Contact War – The history between Saren and humanity__.'_

I stop reading at this point. This whole article leaves a bitter aftertaste. Says a lot about her? They had to have a go at Shepard, didn't they? Lead experts my ass. Shit, just from looking at Sovereign I could tell it was made from different materials, materials that the geth don't use. Come to think of it, how did these 'rumors' even get to the media? I don't recall the Council saying anything. Then again, it might've been Shepard, since they mention her support of this 'rumor'. Ugh, idiots. This shit is just depressing.

"I take it you've seen it too?" A not-too-pleased flanged voice interrupts me from my thoughts and makes me look up from my omni-tool to see Garrus, who takes ones of the empty seats on my table. First thing I notice about him: he's in his civilian attire. "What?" he asks when he notices me staring.

"Eh, nothing. Just thinking how the hell everything went from being awesome to being so bad," I say, deciding to say nothing. It's just that I've never seen Garrus in such... well, regular clothers. At the funeral he wore an official looking suit. Now he's wearing this blue shirt and black pants. Hm, I think he likes blue.

"I'm asking myself the same question..." he says rather bitterly, looking with visible distaste at the crowd.

I raise an eyebrow. "Want to share? Something's bothering you," I remark.

"I'm just... ugh. I'm just so frustrated! After everything we did, we're just being brushed off!" I know that by we, he means Shepard. The Council couldn't care less about the rest us. "They're allowing the media to besmirch her name, to criticize every choice she made during the mission and the worst part is that the Council practically supports it!" he practically growls with anger. "No. The worst part is that they're doing nothing about the Reapers. We just delayed them, and the Council knows it, yet they just deny it ever happened!"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this..." By the gods, what the hell am I saying? "in their defense, they're probably scared shitless as it is."

"That does not change the fact that they are not doing anything! They're just denying it and continuing with their lives as if nothing happened! If you can't rely on your government to do the right thing and make sure everyone is safe, who can you trust?" he asks me heatedly.

Who do you go to when no one else is doing anything? If I was in a better mood and the setting would've been more positive, I'd easily say that you go to the A-Team. In all seriousness... who can I come to when the Council fails me? Considering they already failed me, and more than once, the only one I can rely on to do anything... is myself, and only because the person I'd go to just happens to be dead for the next two years. But what can I do? Another question that I don't have answers to.

I let out a short humorless chuckle. "Do tell me when you find the answer," I say quietly. "So what have you been up to? How's your job?" I ask, changing the subject.

He doesn't look any happier, but I can tell that he's not minding the subject-changing. "Can't really call it a job. More like a never-ending battle with bureaucracy and it's getting worse every day. Just today we had to let go of this obviously-guilty smuggler simply because I didn't have a search warrant and I had to wait for three damn _hours_ to get one and while I waited, someone bailed him out and he vanished within minutes. Spirit-damned red tape and bureaucracy."

"Wow. Just... wow," that's just fucked up. "How in the nine hells are you supposed to do your job then?" I ask.

Garrus laughs mirthlessly. "Apparently, I'm not. For some reason, I always get reprimanded when I actually _do_ something."

"Damn. That sucks," I say, giving him a sympathetic look.

"That's putting it lightly. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I joined C-Sec because I wanted to change things, to fight crime, to do good things..." he trails off, now lost in thought.

Well... shit. I know where this is going. They're not letting him do his job, so he's going to take it into his own hands. I have no idea when this is going to happen, but from the look of things it's going to be soon. I'm about to comment on it, to try and get some idea about his plans when my omni-tool pings with a received message. I quickly check what it says and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise, which catches the attention of my turian friend.

"What does it say?" he asks curiously.

"It's a job offer," I answer. Holy crap! So soon! "This guy is asking me to come to his office at the Edroki plaza in Kithoi. Looks promising," Shit, the guy sounds excited with the way the letter is written. It's also pretty informal, which is pretty unusual for someone offering a legit job. I let out a small laugh when I realize something. "Hah! He must've seen my commercial!"

I look up from the letter and see Garrus giving me this weird, half-confused-half-surprised look. "Commercial? What commercial?" he slowly asks, as if wondering if really wants to know.

I grin at him. He didn't see it yet! Heresy! Oh yeah, I'm going to have fun now. "Oh, you don't know yet! Man, can't believe I forgot to tell you. Oh, no, I'm not going to tell you. Come on, get your ass up, you have to see it for yourself!" I say excitedly, basically grabbing his hand and pulling him off the seat. I drop a credit chit to pay for the coffee – along with a small tip for the cute weitress – and proceed to drag him away in search of the biggest billboard I can find in short notice.

* * *

**And we're done!~ Hope you like it! Decided to add more humor in contrast with the last series of rather angst-filled chapters. Oh, and look at that! More backstory for my characters! Woo! So yeah. Deodorant. Deal with it! ^^ Alright, now onto the important stuff. The next chapter... I have no idea when it will be done. Why? Because of my job. I have reached a new low regarding my job. It's utter torture. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating here, if you ever have a choice between jobs, never pick retail. Never. If it's being a janitor or retail, pick janitor. It's utter torture. **

**Of course, most of the grief is caused by my coworkers. I'm the only man in the sector, the other 10 are all women, and they abuse it to no end. I am literally doing the workload of 4 other people every day and my boss-lady finds nothing wrong with it, but when I want to rest and heal my aching body, it's like I'm kicking her newborn child or something. The amount I'm being paid is so minimum wage it's not even funny. In Russia, earning 20K per month is considered poor. Janitors earn 30. Warehouse workers earn 35. My manager earns 40. I do all these jobs at the same time and earn 20. So yeah, I'm just ranting and complaining here, but I gotta get it out of my systems. I've been taking sedatives for the past months and a half, mostly so I won't do something drastic and because it slightly helps with my back pains. Unfortunately, it kinda removes the mood to write, so that didn't help me in this department. Sadly, can't finish a workday without them nowadays. Goddamn herbal shit.  
**

**On a positive note, I'm searching for a new job, and I'm currently working on an epic speech which I'll use to utterly verbally annihilate my boss when I tell her I quit. I'm currently in a state of war with her and the best part? She can't fire me. She. Is. POWERLESS against me. Epic. Why you ask? Because if I leave, who will do all the physical labor, when everyone left are lazy chicks who refuse to work and 2 of them are pregnant and are not allowed to work. So yeah, she's on thin ice with me, and I'm practically daring her to give me a reason to quit work. Hah.  
Okay, that's it, the rant is over. In short? I have no idea when I'll finish writing the next one. Hopefully soon. No promises. So yeah, feel free to tell me what you thought, any suggestions you might have. Know that I read every single of my reviews and I respond to those who I deem response-worthy (I.e reviews longer than one word), so feel free to tell me whatever you want to say about the story, or just... say something! Thanks for reading and to all those who are still here since the first story, thanks for sticking with me for this long! Until next time, Delvaro out!  
**

**P.S: GET SAINTS ROW 4! Totally worth it. Oh, and if any of you are fans AND writers, do a crossover. And tell me about it. Even if you don't write one, if you do find one, TELL ME! :D**


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